


Chase the Lightning From the Sky

by SilverSlashes, TrishArgh



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexuality, Boss/Employee Relationship, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Coming Out, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Feelings, First Time Bottoming, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Healthy Relationships, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Kink, Past Character Death, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Slash, Smut, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Switching, Top Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers, mild animal death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 08:15:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 39,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16364183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverSlashes/pseuds/SilverSlashes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrishArgh/pseuds/TrishArgh
Summary: If Bucky has to be stuck doing this ridiculous summer work program before his senior year of college, on a ranch in the middle of nowhere, then at least he’s got a hot as hell cowboy for a boss and host. Steve Rogers, owner of the Truth & Justice Ranch, is what Bucky’s completely theoretical but very imaginative bisexual fantasies are made of. Steve’s a widower though, and a nice guy in need of help, and no doubt 100% straight… so Bucky’s gonna work his ass off and keep his head down.But neither Bucky nor Steve are prepared for the friendship that forms between them as they work side by side. And they certainly aren’t expecting the budding feelings, confessions, and passions that summer heat and the loneliness of the great open plains stirs in each of them. What rages to life between them will shake each man to his core and will linger long after the storms and the summer have passed.





	Chase the Lightning From the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> SilverSlashes: This fic was a ride (pun intended) from start to finish. It started as a writing experiment for me and sort of snowballed, ran me over, and hurled me down the mountain. This story and the title are based loosely on the song "That Summer" by Garth Brooks. As always, thank you to my beta (Manda). And a special thank you to my artist for the bang, TrishArgh. Thank you for choosing my fic and for working with me. This is my first bang in years and you were kind and supportive and understanding. Your art is amazing and I'm so pleased with the life it gives to the fic. You are the best!
> 
> TrishArgh: I am so happy this fic is finally out in the world :) SilverSlashes did an amazing job and I had the most fun during this process. Thank you for writing these adorable idiots. A special thank you to my friend Kathy who will probably never read this, but who's enthusiastic help with how horses and their reins work helped me A LOT! man, horses are hard :D

 

Bucky had been one swift week away from summer break; just a few pesky finals and then a whole, hot, Brooklyn summer's worth of fun stretched out between him and senior year of college. He had midtown clubbing nights, sleeping-in mornings, and lazy afternoons by his parent’s penthouse pool with a book all planned out… and Fortnite, so much Fortnite. That was until a few of his dumb-as-fuck frat buddies decided to throw a Cinco de Mayo party.

An unquantifiable number of pitchers of margaritas later and Bucky had been trying to pass out peacefully in his room; he’d struck out with the girl in the smokin’ black leather number in the kitchen. She’d had a boyfriend. From out of state? Or maybe he was studying abroad? Bucky couldn’t even remember. How many pitchers of margaritas was it now?

He had been attempting to climb the stairs when Clint had come tripping down them with an ungodly amount of toilet paper in his arms, “ _brooo_ … me, Hunter, and Bobbi are gonna go TP the Chancellor’s House.”

“No, no, no…” Bucky had done an about-face to follow him out the door, “this is not a good idea man. I’m all for shenanigans. You know me. But, the frat is already on thin ice after that incident after the last home football game.”

Clint shrugged as he tossed a roll to Bobbi who was waiting on the sidewalk already, “man, that was some bullshit. I didn’t even know llamas could eat that much grass.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and followed the group down the sidewalk, “this isn’t a good idea. Let’s all just go back and try to get laid. That’s a way better use of our time…”

Hunter just smirked and said in his annoyingly accented way, “nah mate, I tried that already. Struck out with that hot redhead in the kitchen with the leather get-up.”

Bucky slapped him on the arm, “no way! Me too.”

Clint handed Bucky a roll of toilet paper and he felt the alcohol fuzz covering his brain recede just a little more, “no, seriously, this is a _bad_ idea.”

 _Spoiler alert!_ It had been a bad-fucking idea. All around. Clint, Bobbi, and Hunter had gotten caught TP’ing the Chancellor’s fucking house. And guess who had been standing on the sidewalk, holding a roll of toilet paper, and yelling about what a bad idea it was when the Chancellor came out in his bathrobe? Bucky. Fuck his life.

His mom had cried on the Chancellor’s wife’s shoulder, his Dad had promised brand new microscopes for every lab in every science-based department. The Chancellor had magnanimously decided not to expel Bucky if his parents would dole out a suitable punishment. His Dad assured him they would. Bucky had tried to explain for the thousandth time that he had been trying to stop the entire situation. No one listened.

The lecture from his Dad had been just like all the other ones before. No matter how much Bucky did right or no matter what he had done wrong, “you’re an adult now. You’re 21. You’ll be graduating soon. Grad schools look at these sorts of incidents when considering admission. You need to focus on your senior year. Business school…”

Bucky stopped listening at some point. It was the same old speech. Blah blah. MBA. Blah blah. Disappointing. Blah Blah. You need to appreciate the life I’ve given you. Blah blah. You need to realize why degrees are important. Blah blah... “Maybe hard labor will help with that…”

Bucky had tuned back in at that, “excuse me?”

Apparently, his Dad had learned about some programs for students where they could find work on ranches out west for the summer; smaller ranches with less money to hire seasonal help that needed summer assistance preparing the ranch for the fall and winter. It was a chance to see a new place and maybe learn something. That’s what his father had said anyway. His mother had just nodded along like she had somehow had a say in the decision.

So, Bucky was going to end up on a ranch in the middle of bum fuck nowhere Wyoming for the summer. This wasn’t reading by the pool and bar-hopping with high school friends. Wyoming sure as fuck wasn’t Brooklyn. Bucky had looked into his father’s stubborn eyes and the worried expression on his mother’s face and thought that at least he’d get to spend the summer away from his parents.

Bucky didn’t even bother going home. He had a car at UCLA, an 18th birthday present from his parents, so he just jumped on the road after his last exam. When he’d told his Dad he’d be driving to his summer placement (the paperwork said Truth & Justice Ranch) his father had reminded him that he’d know if Bucky didn’t show up. Jesus _fucking_ Christ. His Dad had trust issues. So Bucky had skipped out on that _one_ summer camp when he was 16. Jeez.

He put on his Foo Fighters playlist and settled in for the drive.

 

 

 

Bucky pulled his Land Rover up in the dusty yard of the Truth & Justice Ranch and suddenly considered how citified he looked in a luxury SUV and converses. He climbed out anyway with a sigh, like a man facing the gallows.

The ranch was everything that a naïve, urban-dweller like Bucky had pictured--- a large farmhouse, a large barn, fences, open fields, open sky, and the not entirely unpleasant smell of dirt and animals. He might not have wanted to end up here, and he’d never admit it to his father, but at first glance it didn’t seem like a bad place to spend a summer. It wasn’t the place he wanted to be spending his summer, but it wasn’t _bad_. Bucky thought it was the perfect representation of earth meeting sky.

A movement caught his eye and Bucky watched as a person emerged from the barn. He was glad his sunglasses were still on because he was definitely staring. The guy that walked out of the barn to greet him was Bucky’s definition of the perfect man, and pretty much what he pictured when he pictured a cowboy. Next to the tall, broad, handsome, golden-haired Adonis walking towards him, Bucky felt out of place. He was wearing his favorite band t-shirt and some skinny jeans. He had bought cowboy boots for the occasion but he’d felt stupid wearing them, so he’d just packed them.

Bucky straightened his shoulders, as the guy approached, no use acting out of sorts. Just because this guy, most likely his boss for the summer, looked like he was cut from the cloth of Bucky’s bisexual and mostly theoretical fantasies, was no reason to lose his manners.

Bucky shook himself out of his stupor, lifted his glasses to the top of his head, and gave a soft smile to the approaching stranger. He was mad at his parents, and his shitty friends… and the entire toilet paper industry. Not this guy. This guy didn’t deserve Bucky’s wrath.

He shook the warm and calloused hand offered him, as the guy opened his mouth to let out a sexy drawl that sounded bread-basket of America born and raised, “Welcome to the T&J. I’m Steve Rogers, owner, manager, worker…” Bucky returned the easy smile as the guy chuckled, “well, heck, I pretty much do everything around here needs doing. It’s just me, s’why I put in to that place to get some seasonal help.”

Bucky nodded, “and they sent you me, sorry.”

Steve’s smile made Bucky’s heart flutter, “don’t be sorry James, they sent me your information. I think you’re going to do just fine. Doesn’t take a lot of experience to help run a ranch, it just takes a lot of hard work.”

Bucky grinned, “It’s Bucky, if you don’t mind. And, um, I think I can do that, Sir.”

Steve waved a hand in the air, “no, no, please don’t call me Sir. You’re like, what, 21? I’m barely 10 years older than you. Just call me Steve. I’ll let people call me Sir when my hair is grey.”

Bucky shrugged, “if you say so.”

Steve clapped him on the shoulder and Bucky tried not to linger too much on how warm Steve’s hand was as he said, “Well, let me show you your room and then I’ll start supper. I’ll show you around the ranch tomorrow. I know you drove all the way out here from Cali and I don’t want to overload you after you’ve been on the road for a couple days.”

Bucky nodded and grabbed his huge duffle out of the back seat. Steve did as promised, simply showing Bucky to a room upstairs, a nice one with its own bathroom. Steve pointed things out around the house as they made their way up to Bucky’s room and back down, “my room’s at the end of the hall to the left if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to come knockin’.”

By the time they made it back down to the kitchen Bucky knew where the laundry room, the living room, the office, and the un-used dining room were, “I eat all my meals at the kitchen island bar, to be honest,” Steve said with a smile as he clapped his hands together, “now, about dinner… any allergies?”

Bucky gave a heartfelt no to the allergies, and then proceeded to try and help Steve make steaks and baked potatoes for dinner. Steve had waved him off mostly, saying he could handle it. Bucky glanced around the cozy kitchen; the decoration seemed to have a woman’s touch. It was obvious in their Brooklyn brownstone which rooms his mother had worked with the decorator to design, and which ones his Dad had.

Not thinking, Bucky said as much and then immediately regretted it when Steve’s eyes tracked away from his own and tightness settled around his eyes, “my wife, Peggy, decorated the house. The ranch was her dream, really. I was happy enough to make it happen for her. And, well, with her, everything was an adventure. She loved this place and I loved her.”

Steve smiled suddenly as he put everything in the oven, “actually, if she were here she’d call me on my bullshit. She’d say I wanted the ranch as much as her.”

Steve closed the oven door and set a timer, turning to face Bucky again as he continued, “the first banker we talked to for the loan said we couldn’t do it. Peggy laughed herself silly as we walked out, and when I asked her what was so funny, she said the only surefire way to make sure I did something was to tell me I couldn’t. She said that banker’d just sealed the deal. We’d get the loan somehow. We’d get the ranch. We’d make it work. All because someone told me I couldn’t.”

Bucky couldn’t help but grin a little back at Steve at the sound of that. He’d known Steve for a few hours and already he looked just like the sort of person he’d described to Bucky. Stubborn. Willful. Bucky supposed this sort of life was only meant for those sorts of people.

Bucky looked away again trying to think of something to say to change the subject, Peggy wasn’t any of Bucky’s business, but he couldn’t think of anything quick enough. He heard Steve sigh before saying quietly, “it was cancer. Aggressive. It’s been three years.”

Bucky felt the awkwardness creeping up on him, but pushed through it to nod and mutter a heartfelt _sorry_. Steve just shrugged the shrug of someone whose grief had healed from a fresh, surface wound to a lived-with scar that ached when you pressed on it. Bucky suddenly wanted so badly to remove the sadness from around Steve’s eyes. But that wasn’t his business either.

Steve cleared his throat, “look, I’m a mess from cleaning out the stalls today and I could use a shower while this cooks. Do you mind?”

Bucky shook his head, already reaching for his phone, “no, not a problem. You go ahead. Just, uh, you got a wifi password?” Bucky suddenly had a heart-stopping thought, “I mean, like, you do have wifi out here, right?”

Steve’s face became puzzled, “what’s wifi?"

Bucky felt his entire brain freeze for a second and he was sure his mouth was hanging open but before he could formulate a response Steve burst out laughing, “oh man, you should see your face!”

Bucky’s expression unfroze into a scowl, “very funny.”

Steve grabbed a pen and notepad off the kitchen counter, writing something on it and handing it to Bucky while still chuckling, “here’s the password.”

Bucky snatched it out of his hand, “you’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“Says you,” Steve gave one more laugh before heading upstairs to shower.

Once Steve returned, he finished dinner while Bucky let his eyes wander around the house, checking out the parts he could see and trying to visualize the parts he could remember from the tour.

It wasn’t until they were eating, wrapping up a conversation about the upcoming NFL pre-season starting in a few months, that Bucky thought of something that had been nagging at him, “where did you get all the art in the house from? It’s good. Different mediums, but they go well together. Did Peggy pick it all out?”

Steve was silent for a minute and Bucky could see a blush creeping up his cheeks for some unknown reason. Steve cleared his throat and kept his head down when he replied, “I did them.”

Bucky frowned, “you picked them all out?”

Steve shook his head, and finally looked up, “I did them. All of them.”

Bucky opened his mouth to ask a million questions, changed his mind and just said, “well, they’re really good. Like, art gallery good. I would know, my Mom dragged me to enough stuffy charity art auctions when I was younger.”

Steve smiled a small, pleased sort of smile and said, “thank you,” and went back to eating.

 

 

 

“I’m gonna be honest,” Bucky said, looking down at his feet the next morning and then across the kitchen to where Steve was sitting at the bar drinking orange juice, “I feel real dumb.”

Steve barked out a laugh, but smiled as he put his tablet down, and Bucky considered saying something about old people and technology, but he was still feeling out the humor situation with Steve, “you look fine. Like a real cowboy,” Steve said.

Bucky scowled and Steve just rolled his eyes, “honestly, it’s fine. You just think you look funny because you’re not used to ‘em. But I promise you, you come across a rattler’ or you drop something on your foot and you’ll be really glad you’re wearing those boots and not your converses.”

Bucky shrugged. He had purchased more relaxed fit Levi’s and plain cotton t-shirts for this summer then he’d ever owned in his life. If he was being honest, the boots did sorta complete the look. He looked about like he thought a ranch hand should. Maybe he’d look more like a cowboy if he had a Stetson, but, fuck that. Hat-hair was a real thing. Bucky respected his hair too much for that.

Steve was getting a mug down from the cabinet and retrieving something from the microwave. He looked about like Bucky, comfy jeans, his were worn, and plain red cotton t-shirt that was so faded it looked almost pink. His feet just had socks but Bucky knew his boots were at the door where he’d kicked them off last night. They looked odd by Bucky’s converses.

Steve turned and held up the plate and the mug, “I’ve got coffee and eggs on toast for you. Both are still warm.”

Bucky threw himself into a bar stool and just barely refrained from making grabby hands as Steve set it all down in front of him. He took a big gulp of coffee and moaned a little.

He looked up at Steve who had an amused tilt to his mouth and Bucky said, “what?” right before he shoved the toast in his face, “I’m a college student. I have a caffeine addiction,” he said through a half-full mouth.

Steve just chuckled and shook his head and went to refill his own mug. He drank a little as Bucky ate, and the silence in the kitchen was settling instead of weird. Bucky hadn’t even known Steve for 24 hours, but it was easy enough to accept that Steve was one of those people that you felt like you’d known your whole life.

That was what meeting Clint had been like, and Bucky had known they would be best friends instantly. It had been freshmen year at a house party and he and Clint had both tried to confront a guy at the same time because they’d both caught him dosing drinks in the kitchen. They’d left the guy knocked out on the kitchen floor and went to get pizza.

Bucky didn’t think he and Steve would be best friends by the end of the summer, but he didn’t think he was gonna hate spending the summer here. Despite Bucky technically working for Steve and the decade of time that separated them, Steve had yet to treat Bucky as anything but a peer and he hadn’t talked down to him once. He had been welcoming and funny. Things could be worse.

Bucky had once had a boss who was a narcissistic, handsy jerk face. Bucky had been 16 and trying to prove that he was capable of earning his way – his Dad had tried to withhold his weekly allowance unless he went to some black-tie gala. So Bucky had gotten a job instead. At Starbucks. In Manhattan.

The manager’s name was Brock and Bucky quit after 6 months when he realized being anywhere near Brock was way worse than attending 100 black-tie galas. That had been the first of many of Bucky’s uncomfortable epiphanies about how privileged he was. There had been a girl working there named Wanda, who Brock liked to bother too, and she’d explained to Bucky that she couldn’t afford to quit. So, yeah, it could be worse.

Unbeknownst to Bucky’s thoughts, Steve finally cleared his throat and said, “so, I thought today I could just show you around the ranch. Start slow. You can help me with some of the easier, day-to-day stuff like feeding the horses. We can break into the harder stuff after you get acclimated.”

Bucky shrugged, “sounds good to me. What’s the harder stuff?”

Steve grinned, “hauling hay, riding the fence line, maintenance on the barn, cleaning out the stalls, checking on the herd.”

Bucky blinked, “I’m sorry, back up, did you saying ‘riding the fences’? Like, that’s a real thing? Not an expression?”

Steve laughed, like a big belly sort of laugh with his head thrown back and one hand pressed up to his chest, “um, yes,” he said when he finally stopped laughing, “you have to check to make sure the posts are sound and the wire hasn’t broken or been tampered with.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, “and when you say ride, you mean?”

Steve’s smile got even bigger, “I mean, on a horse.”

Bucky heaved a big sigh, he thought it might come to this, “that’s what I was afraid of.”

“Don’t worry, city-slicker,” Steve slapped him gently on the shoulder before moving to put all the dishes in the sink, “I’ll show you how.”

That’s what Bucky _was afraid of_.

 

 

 

Steve wasn’t sure what to make of this kid. Not a kid, he reminded himself. This _guy_. Bucky. He was older than whatever kid Steve thought he’d be getting with the program. And… well… Steve didn’t want to admit to thinking the word _handsome_ … but there it was. He hadn’t signed-up to be working beside a good-looking, funny, smart-mouthed brunette all summer. And he could hear Peggy laughing at him clear as day in his head. Boy oh boy, did Steve have a type.

Steve had applied to that program as an act of desperation and because Sam had told him about it. There were some other small ranches across Wyoming and Montana that had good things to say about it. Anyone ages 16 to 25 could apply and it was geared towards students. Some ranches agreed to take disciplinary cases, kids who were court-ordered to do something. Steve had felt bad as he’d clicked the _no_ box on that, but he didn’t need to deal with attitude on top of everything else.

Bucky just seemed to want the experience, the challenge. Some kids backpacked across Europe between semesters; maybe this was sorta like that. He was currently standing attentively by the truck as Steve explained that they were gonna ride the ranch in the pick-up to give Bucky the lay of the land, then they’d tour the barn and Steve would introduce Bucky to the horses and they’d review caring for the horses and maybe get Bucky up in the saddle before calling it quits for the day.

Bucky was nodding along, his posture relaxed, his face turned into the sun like he was enjoying being outdoors when suddenly he spotted something over Steve’s shoulder and his entire body tensed.

Steve frowned as Bucky softy whispered, “oh my god, Steve, don’t move.”

Steve cocked his head to the side in puzzlement as Bucky’s eyes darted from whatever was behind Steve back to Steve’s face, “okay, so, don’t freak out, but there’s a wolf right behind you.”

Steve spun around and saw what Bucky was looking at just as Bucky said, “Jesus fucking Christ, what part of ‘don’t move’ was complicated?!”

Steve burst out laughing and said, “language,” in admonishment as he bent down to scratch the _wolf_ behind the ears.

Bucky’s eyebrows rose to his hairline, “really!?”

Steve wasn’t sure if he was talking about the cursing or Nomad, but he just shrugged at Bucky and said, “you’re grown, you can do what you want. I cuss sometimes. My Mom was a stickler for clean language though and it’s sorta stuck in my brain to say that when someone cusses; I can hear her saying it clear as a bell…”

“Anyway, _this_ ,” Steve added, pointing to the _dog_ , “is Nomad. She’s a low-content wolf dog, meaning she’s about 2 parts husky and 1 part red wolf.”

Bucky blinked in surprise, surveying the dog. He held perfectly still as Nomad rounded the truck to sniff at him. She licked his hand and he let out a surprised laugh before scratching her behind the ears, “nice to meet you too.”

Steve scratched the back of his neck trying not to laugh again, Nomad could be intimidating honestly when you saw her for the first time, he was surprised Bucky managed not to just run screaming into the house. Bucky had honest to God thought a wolf was behind Steve and he’d tried to warn him instead of just freaking out, which was brave for a city-slicker.

“Sorry about that. I sorta forgot to let you know about her. She’s a roamer and I think she was out in the back pasture when you showed up last night. I forgot to tell you not to freak out if you saw her.”

Bucky shrugged and smiled. Steve jerked his thumb towards the barn, “she has food and water and a bed in the barn. She likes to be able to come and go as she pleases; keeps most predators away just with her presence. She’s allowed in the house from time to time. But, she’s not a big fan of being cooped up.”

Steve walked around the truck and dropped the tailgate, “you wanna go for a ride girl?”

Nomad padded over to the back and leaped into the bed, her tongue hanging out of her mouth in excitement. Steve closed the tailgate and climbed into the truck, Bucky already in the passenger seat. He started it up and then looked over at Bucky out of the corner of his eye.

“You know, most people, especially people not from around here, would have just screamed and made a break for the house. You thought you saw a wolf behind me and you stayed put, stayed still, tried to keep my reactions minimal, which is the right thing to do, by the way.”

Steve saw Bucky smile a small, pleased smile before he scoffed to cover it up, “yeah, well, don’t be too impressed. I see a mountain lion? I’m leaving your ass to get eaten.”

Steve laughed. He really liked this guy. And that was gonna be trouble, Steve just knew it. Bucky was perceptive. Which, to be fair, Steve had no business assuming that anyone wasn’t sharp just because they were good looking or wore converses or preferred band t-shirts. That was ridiculous to assume, and yet Steve had expected Bucky to sort of let Steve talk _at_ him. Instead, he was keenly interested in what Steve did.

“I figure a good way to look at it is, you’re running a business here and I’m about to apply for an MBA, so I might as well case study the hell out of the T&J while I’m here,” Bucky rolled down the window and leaned his arm up against the frame letting the wind hit his face.

Steve turned the truck to head out into the front pasture. The cows were in the back the last few weeks, up against the preserve that began on the other side of his fence line. They’d have to move them to another pasture soon to avoid over-grazing.

“Well, the Truth & Justice isn’t much of a business anymore. At least, not like the large-scale ranches you see down into Texas, cranking out cattle. We used to be bigger, better, just more, you know? But, I’m getting by.”

Bucky shrugged, “small businesses don’t mean any less just because they’re small, in fact, sometimes it can be even more impressive to see what a small business can do with the limited resources they have.”

Steve did a double take at Bucky, shocked at his… maturity? Was that the right word? Worldliness? Steve needed to stop underestimating this guy. Maybe it was because Steve had already experienced so much in his life that Bucky’s 21 just seemed so far away from Steve’s 31. It wasn’t. Hell, Steve and Peggy had decided to start a cattle ranch at 21 and they’d done it by their mid-twenties… and then Peggy had gotten sick. Steve shook himself of those thoughts as he put the truck in park on the edge of the small river that bisected his land.

He got out and Bucky followed, Nomad, not even waiting, just leaped over the side of the truck and took off to run circles and splash around in the water.

Bucky nodded towards the dog, “is the water cold?”

Steve shook his head, “not to her. To us? A little uncomfortably cold even in the dead of summer, but, you get hot enough working, you’ll lay down in it.”

“So,” Bucky swept his hands out, “this is God’s country?”

Steve laughed, “well, I call it home. Can’t speak for God.”

Bucky grinned and took a deep breath and Steve was charmed despite his best effort. He tried to get his mind back on track, “so, I’m gonna assume that you know nothing about ranching." 

“Assume away,” Bucky was turning his head in every direction as he spoke like he couldn’t take it all in.

Steve started to speak, “well, you work around the seasons. Spring is calving season. That’s when the herd grows. I bring in some seasonal, paid ranch-hand work that time of year. The local vet starts making the rounds. His name’s Dr. Banner. Nice guy. Once the calves are born you gotta start weaning them and making sure they’re healthy. The herds across the river right now in the far pasture. You can see a few of ‘em from here.”

Steve pointed over to their right, “in a few weeks I’ll have to move them to a secondary pasture so they don’t over-graze. That’s where they eat too much of the grass in one pasture. It’s bad for it and for them. You have to keep them moving in the warm months to keep them fed and give the grass time to grow back.”

Bucky nodded, “makes sense.”

Steve continued, “In the summer I don’t need a lot of help. It’s just a steady list of chores, up-keep really – irrigation projects, harvesting the hay, the odd construction job, paint some things, and the like.”

Steve pointed back towards the house, now behind them but visible in the distance, “the barn needs some maintenance this year. I’ll be having you do some of that.”

Bucky nodded again and Steve continued, “In the fall I bring the seasonal help back to help me get the cows ready for market. The vet comes back to start testing the females who may be pregnant. We work on firewood collection for the winter ahead and stock up on other things too.”

Steve sighed, “Winter, I go back to being a one-man operation. Mostly it’s feeding and watering the herds every day because they can’t graze in the snow and sometimes the river freezes over.”

Steve turned back towards the truck, “hop back in and we’ll ride the parts of the fence line that we can with the truck.”

They got back in the truck, leaving Nomad to splash about some more, “don’t worry,” Steve told Bucky when he looked back, “she’ll make her way up to the house. Plus, I put a GPS tracker in her collar that I charge occasionally. I know where she is when I care to look.”

Steve pointed out the fence line as they approached and he had to get out to undo the gate so they could pass over into another pasture, “you drive through and I’ll close the gate.”

Bucky nodded and did as told. When Steve got back in he pointed out the barbwire strung between the posts, “This is why it’s important to ride the fences. Sometimes animals can get caught-up in the fencing, sometimes wild and sometimes your own herd. A tree can fall on the fence or, worst-case scenario, they get cut by cattle rustlers.”

Steve headed back for the house and barn across the pasture they were in, they’d come up from behind the barn. He’d show Bucky around the barn and paddock before they took a lunch break.

Once they pulled up by the barn he said, “other daily tasks include feeding and watering the horses. Brushing them a few times a week. I let them out to pasture in the mornings, muck the stalls, and then at night I bring them back in. About once a week you have to completely muck each stall. That means you clear all the bedding and replace it with fresh wood chips and straw.”

Bucky nodded, taking it all in as Steve moved to pull the barn door open, “I’ll show you how to do all of this and I won’t leave you to it till I know you’re comfortable.”

Bucky turned his head towards Steve from where he’d been looking around the barn and up towards the loft, “yeah, I figured. I mean, I’m a quick learner, so I don’t think it’ll take that long for me to figure it all out,” he paused, “except maybe that whole riding a horse thing.”

Steve laughed as he walked over to the first stall, “don’t worry. We’re gonna work on that a lot this week.”

Steve held his hand out for the beautiful chestnut brown gelding with what looked like a white star on his forehead that stuck his head over the stall door, “hey, buddy, what’s up?”

The horse snuffled at Steve’s hand and when he didn’t find anything edible he snorted and Steve chuckled, “you’re so spoiled, hold on.”

Steve turned around and made his way to the tack room, “Anything you need that’s horse related is in here, including treats. There’s also a sink in here and it’s where I keep a lot of the upkeep supplies for the barn." 

Steve grabbed some peppermints out of a container and stuck them in his pocket. He took one out and began unwrapping it. At the crinkling noise the horse’s ears twitched and then 2 other horse heads appeared over the other stall doors.

Bucky gasped, “oh, wow, that’s a neat trick.”

Steve smiled, “not a trick, they just love peppermints. Makes their breath smell good too.”

Steve held his hand out, palm open and stretched wide as he said, “this is Captain, he’s my horse.”

Bucky moved forward, getting closer to Steve and the horse. Steve took another peppermint out and held it out to Bucky, “place it in your palm with the skin stretched taut so he can’t nip accidentally.”

Bucky did as he was told and smiled as the horse picked up the peppermint with his lips, the soft hairs of his nose and mouth brushing Bucky’s hand with a tickling sensation. Steve let Bucky stroke Captain’s muzzle for a bit as the horse sniffed at Bucky, mostly looking for more peppermints but also because Bucky smelled new.

They moved on down the line and Steve continued to unwrap and hand Bucky peppermints, “this is Lady,” the horse in question was a white mare dappled with grey flecks, “this is Peggy’s horse.”

Bucky nodded but didn’t say anything. He gave Lady the peppermint and they moved on to a reddish-colored horse with black hair, “be careful,” Steve said as they approached, “this is Howler.”

The horse tossed his head a bit as they got closer, “his full name is Howling Commando and he was a racehorse that Peggy saved from an abusive owner. He can be… temperamental.”

Steve gave the peppermint to Bucky and Bucky held out his hand the same way he had with the other horses. Howler didn’t take it immediately, instead sniffing Bucky out and looking at him sideways for a minute before moving forward again to take the peppermint and moving away again.

 

Bucky turned around with a pleased look and Steve started to smile as well, but it slid off his face as Howler’s head suddenly came back over the stall door and down to sniff at Bucky’s hair. Bucky froze and stayed very still so as not to spook the horse, looking to Steve and waiting to see what the horse would do. Steve looked on in shocked amazement when Howler started lipping and licking Bucky’s hair.

Bucky whispered in horror, “Steve, is this horse licking me?”

Steve nodded, and kept his voice quiet too, “it’s how some horses show affection, but I’ve never seen him do it. He liked Peggy well enough and he tolerates me, but, this…” Steve just trailed off.

Bucky very slowly pivoted on his boot heels until he was facing Howler and then brought his hand up at a glacial pace to reach out. He expected Howler to pull back at any moment, but he didn’t and Bucky stroked his fingertips lightly along the horse's head and nose. Then, Howler backed away and turned around in his stall, dismissing Bucky, and the moment was over. 

Bucky turned and blinked a few times at Steve, clearly surprised and pleased. Steve just smiled and tried really hard not to show how affected he was that Howler had chosen Bucky of all people to make a connection to. It made him happy, on one hand, that Howler was letting someone close. He had been closed off since Peggy’s death 3 years ago. On the other hand, it hurt Steve’s heart to realize that once again, this abused horse had decided to like someone who was going to leave him. Steve wished Howler liked him more, Steve felt a kinship with him. After all, everyone Steve liked eventually left him too.

 

  

 

The week had flown by. Bucky was glad it was Friday though. Everything hurt – his muscles ached, his hands hurt, and his feet hurt. There were parts of Bucky that he didn’t even know could hurt, but that had been before he’d tried to learn how to ride a horse. He’d wanted to learn how to ride on Howler and Steve had quickly vetoed that. He’d told Bucky that he’d learn to ride on Captain because Steve trusted Captain. But Bucky knew, at some point this summer, he and Howler were gonna saddle-up; Bucky figured a horse didn’t lick you if they didn’t want you to ride them. There was a sex joke somewhere in there, but Bucky was too tired to even make it to himself.

Steve had said Saturdays and Sundays were more low-key than the weekdays and Bucky sure hoped so. He watched Steve drive across the pasture. Steve had been out in the far field mending a fence this afternoon that they’d discovered riding yesterday. Bucky went into the barn to store the paint can back on the shelf in the tack room and he washed the brush and his hands in the basin sink before heading out to meet Steve, now coming up the drive.

Steve was climbing out of the truck when Bucky approached and he smiled, “you about done with the trim work?”

“Yeah,” Bucky shrugged, “it’s not HGTV pro level but it’s passable.”

Steve laughed, “that’s where we like to operate here at the T&J, passable.”

“Hey,” Steve said, “I was thinking, I’ve just been feeding you whatever I have and you’ve been eating it, but I never asked you if you wanted anything specific.”

Bucky waved a hand in the air, “I’m not picky. It’s nice to have a home-cooked meal. My Mom _can_ cook but she’s often too busy socially, and then, well, college is me eating out a lot.”

Steve nodded, “still, I need some things from town and the store, and if I take you with me you can pick out some things you want.”

Bucky shrugged, “sounds good.”

“Okay, let’s call it an early day, get cleaned up, and then head into town. It’s about a 25 minute drive to Laramie but there’s a grocery store and a bar with decent food. Cheyenne’s less than an hour, but I don’t ever go unless I need something I can’t get around here… I’m more likely to run into people I went to high school with. No thanks.”

Bucky laughed and then said, “when you say a bar, do you mean with alcohol?”

Steve threw a grin at him as he tugged his boots off, “yes Mr. I’m 21. We can get a beer, maybe catch the Sports Center highlights, dinner, then groceries and home.”

Bucky practically sprinted for the stairs and Steve followed at a more sedate pace. Bucky turned at the top of the staircase and could have sworn Steve was looking at his ass, but it just had to be their height difference on the stairs. Steve was straight. Definitely. Bucky needed to get a grip on this little crush he was developing.

“I’ll meet you back down in 20?” Bucky asked.

“Sure,” Steve said as he moved around Bucky to get to his own room.

They were in the truck in fewer than 30 and on their way. Steve rolled the windows in the truck down and they cruised as Steve pointed out certain features of the land and where the boundaries of other people’s property were. Bucky tried to listen instead of being overly excited about being around some sort of civilization again, or overly distracted by the way the late afternoon sun glinted off Steve’s blond hair.

Bucky had come from the other direction, so when they pulled onto the main street of Laramie everything was brand new territory. It was a small town, but serviceable. As promised they parked right in front of an old bar near the main drag. Steve walked in like he owned the place and Bucky followed, watching Steve give a short wave and a polite smile to a handful of people on the sidewalk and inside the bar.

“Well look what the cat dragged in!” A voice rose above the noise of the bar as the door closed behind them and Bucky’s eyes adjusted to the gloom.

Steve laughed and moved forward to greet the smiling, blond bombshell headed their way who had yelled at Steve, “hi, Carol. How ya doin’?”

She hugged Steve, “can’t complain. You?”

Steve pulled back and just said, “same,” before gesturing to Bucky, “this is Bucky, he’s helping me around the ranch for the summer.”

Carol introduced herself and Bucky shook the hand she offered. Once she had some menus in hand she seated them at a table. Bucky took a long moment to look around. The place was part pool hall, part diner, part sports bar. Carol had wisely sat them at a booth that allowed for viewing of a TV in either direction. 

They ordered beers and settled on an appetizer and food options before settling in to watch a little of what was on the TVs. Bucky had the option of ESPN's rerun of one of their 30 for 30 docu-series episodes or what looked to be a syndicated episode of Criminal Minds. Fantastic! He and Steve lapsed into an agreed upon silence that felt comfortable.

Bucky startled and almost spilled his beer when a voice shouted very close to their general proximity, “Steve?!”

Steve’s attention shifted from the TV to an athletically built, grinning, cowboy-hat-wearing man coming to a stop by their table. Steve’s expression cleared as he recognized the person and he stood to hug them before sitting back down and scooting over to make room for them on his side of the booth.

Steve gestured to Bucky, “Sam, this is Bucky, he’s with that summer program you recommended.”

Sam reached out a hand to shake and said, “Sam Wilson, nice to meet you.”

Bucky assured him the feeling was mutual and then went back to drinking beer as Sam and Steve fell into conversation. Bucky could tell right away that Sam was a real friend, not just someone in town or an acquaintance. Steve’s body language was opening up – his eyes warming, his smile growing, and his laugh getting louder. 

Bucky listened as the two talked ranch gossip, horse training, cattle prices, and how long it had been since they caught up. Bucky gathered that Sam had worked at the Truth & Justice at some point but he could tell in what capacity. He liked the way Steve’s eyes lit-up at Sam’s description of another ranch-hand he had to work within Colorado. Bucky’s eyes followed the long line of Steve’s throat as he threw his head back laughing and then tried to look quickly away when he realized what he was doing.

Sam finally got up and mentioned having to go, but he promised to stop by the ranch soon for a longer visit and he said goodbye to Bucky by name, which was impressive considering they’d only said a few words to each other.

“Sorry about that,” Steve said as Carol came sauntering over with their plates of food.

Bucky shook his head, “no problem. I get the feeling you don’t get to see him very often…”

Steve shook his head, “he used to be my foreman at the ranch. That basically meant running everything from the daily chores to managing permanent and seasonal hires, and making decisions about grazing, the animals, and more. He was full-time, benefits, the whole nine, and Peggy and I even put him up for a while until he got a place of his own. 

Bucky nodded, “so, he left?”

Steve got a faraway look in his eye and Bucky recognized it as a sign he had asked something that meant Steve was recalling something painful, “I had to let him go actually.”

Bucky nodded with a grim smile, “part of the financial issues?”

Steve nodded and looked at his burger, “yeah, I just couldn’t afford to keep him full-time and I needed to give him the opportunity to find something good for him. He actually does a lot of nomad work. That’s ranch hands that travel around and fill in where they’re needed. I bring him back once or twice a year when he can fit me into his rotation. He makes good money. Gets to travel. You know?”

Bucky nodded like he did know, and he at least did understand. Steve sighed as he started to dig into the food. Bucky filled the silence by taking a long swig of beer, not seeing as he did Steve’s own blatant stare down his throat and back up to his lips before flickering away.

Bucky threw a french fry at Steve suddenly and said, “If your favorite movie star was a candy bar, what would they be?”

Steve laughed, which was Bucky’s entire point, distraction, and said, “That doesn’t even make any sense.”

Bucky tried to look mock offended, “of course it does. They ask us all sorts of weird, pseudo-psychological questions as future job interview prep.”

Steve looked half confused and half offended, “how is that supposed to help you get a job?”

Bucky shrugged, “I don’t know.”

Steve considered it as he took a bite of his burger, “well, then, I guess, Robert DeNiro as a Mounds bar.”

Bucky busted out laughing.

 

 

 

Bucky slid down from Captain’s back. His grip on the reins during this session had been the straw that broke the camels back for a nasty blister on his hand. Bucky surveyed the damage, shrugged, and bit at the little flap of skin hanging off to tear it the rest of the way.

Steve made a noise of protest, “your hands always take the worst of it in this line of work, don’t worry, you’ll develop callouses soon enough.

Bucky grunted as he ripped another piece of skin off, “I’ve done worse than this doing shit at the gym.”

He tasted blood on his lips and knew he’d at least need to wash his hands and it was gonna hurt like a bitch. He looked at Steve, “I’m rich, not delicate.”

Steve looked so put upon that Bucky thought he might hurt himself rolling his eyes, “it’s not a contest you idiot, I know you’re not delicate. That’s very obvious.”

Was Steve blushing? Bucky felt giddy at the prospect. Had Steve just complimented him?

Bucky smirked but Steve just pressed on not looking him in the eye, “you don’t need to rip your blisters off with your teeth to prove something to me. Jesus. You’re gonna get sepsis.”

He pointed towards the tack room in the barn, “Go wash your fucking hands, Buffalo Bill.”

Bucky put his hands on his hips with a shocked gasp and said, “language.”

Steve just groaned and scrubbed at his face in frustration. Bucky took pity on him and sauntered off with a laugh.

When the warm water and soap hit his hands a moment later he made an undignified yelping noise that echoed around the barn and he heard Steve chuckle from Captain’s stall. Fucking punk.

Bucky came out of the tack room and flinched when he caught Steve leaning up against the barn wall beside the door out of the corner of his eye.

Steve looked at him for a minute, then down at his clean hands, before saying, “you know I don’t care that you’re rich, right?”

“What?” It wasn’t eloquent, but Bucky wasn’t really sure where Steve was going with this.

Steve shrugged, “I know what it’s like to feel like you got something to prove. Maybe not quite the same thing, but I definitely wanted people to see me as more than I appeared to be, because I was, more, I mean.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say to that and Steve didn’t elaborate, he just kept on talking, “Peggy was rich. British, actually. Her family had been titled, maybe still is. She was cagey about it. She was raised to be polite and smart and ruthless and talented… she called it being _groomed_. Her parents, well, we didn’t see eye to eye.”

Steve looked at Bucky then, “I met Peggy in college, at a party, long story. But at the time, I didn’t know she was rich. I just knew she was sharp and beautiful and kind. She wanted freedom and adventure and she wanted me, which seemed so hard to believe at first.”

“Anyway,” Steve sighed, “the point is, you can’t help your raisin’. Not if you’re poor, like I was, and not if you’re rich, like Peggy was. But, you can help what sort of person you become.”

Steve nodded to Bucky’s ripped-up palm, “you seem tough and aware and smart and driven and a good person. I don’t think you’re some spoiled rich kid,” Steve grinned.

Bucky looked down at his boots and back up before taking a deep breath, “Just so we’re clear, I _like_ being rich. I just, understand the privilege it gives me… and I wanna _do_ something with it.”

Steve chuckled, “well, yeah, I’d like being rich too.”

“I just…” Bucky started and then had to stop for a minute to gather his thoughts, “my friends in college get me… all of me… and I haven’t had to really feel like this in a while… like I’m being force-fed the silver spoon in my mouth.”

Steve disappeared into the tack room and came back out with a first aid kit, “come here, let’s dress that just in case, and then call it a day.”

Bucky nodded and stepped forward, holding his hand out palm up for Steve’s inspection. Steve’s hand was warm underneath his as he inspected the damage and got antiseptic spray and gauze out of the kit with the other hand. Apparently, that was the end of that conversation, except… Bucky knew he shouldn’t ask, but he couldn’t help wanting desperately to know.

“So, if Peggy was rich…” Bucky cringed even as the words rolled out. 

Steve sighed, “you want to know why the ranch isn’t doing so great.”

Bucky swallowed loudly but before he could apologize Steve continued, “Apparently, you don’t get the money if you marry down.”

“Down?” Bucky frowned.

The look on Steve’s face was both intense and wistful, he continued wrapping Bucky’s hand as he spoke, “Peggy married me because she loved me. But I was a nobody from Cheyenne with a scholarship to NYU…”

Bucky looked up from watching Steve wrap his hand, “you went to NYU!? You know I’m from Brooklyn. You didn’t say anything.”

Steve shrugged, “Yeah. Art Major. Lived in Brooklyn actually, for a while. Peg and I got a little one-bedroom walk-up. That’s where we hatched the plan for the ranch actually. I’d tell her all about how open the Midwest was, what it was like. We’d sit out on the fire escape and stare at the concrete jungle and I’d try to paint her the picture of where I was raised. She loved it. And so, after we graduated, we moved out here, started working on our dream.”

Bucky smiled, the art all over the house made sense now, “I _love_ the city. But, I guess all this is growing on me too,” he gestured with his good hand at their surroundings. He heard the quiet noises of the horses in their stalls and tried to refrain from bringing his fingers up to touch the crease between Steve’s eyebrows as he worked to tie-off Bucky’s bandage.

When he finished he put the supplies back in the kit while he spoke, picking back up where he left off, “the point is… Peggy’s parents were cordial, but they never agreed to us marrying, or this ranch. They remained in touch with her and they came to the very small wedding we had, but we never got a dime from them. Once they realized how serious Peggy was about me… which was about the time she graduated and moved back to Wyoming with me… they sort of cut her out.”

Steve put the kit back and locked the tack room before coming out and they began the walk up to the house together in the fading light, “when she got sick, Peggy and I paid for a lot of her treatment, that’s why the ranch suffered, but there were experimental things we couldn’t afford. Her parents paid for a lot of that. They spared no expense. I mean, their only daughter was dying. Of course they did. I don’t want you to think they were monsters, just people who wanted better for their daughter, or at least better than me, I guess.”

Steve started to kick his boots off once they reached the porch, “after Peggy died, they worked with me to settle everything. The ranch is 100% mine, sink or swim, and I doubt I’ll ever hear from them again. So, maybe I know a little bit more than most about how being rich doesn’t always guarantee that life is roses. I mean, I’ve been poor and I’ve been, well, not poor. And Peggy was rich, and then she was not rich. And the only thing that made any of it worth anything was that we loved each other.”

Steve looked up as they made it to the kitchen and he seemed a little shocked to find Bucky standing there, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to unload all that on you.”

Bucky shook his head, “ _I asked_ , Steve. It’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay, that really sucks for you. But, I suppose after accidentally vomiting my rich kid issues all over you, that I deserve in-law issues in reciprocation.”

Steve sort of made a snorting noise through his nose like one of the horses before chuckling, “you know, I like that about you. You don’t stew in anything. You acknowledge what I tell you with an appropriate response, you transition to humor to defuse the moment, and then you just move past it. I envy that. I needed that like 3 years ago. Where were you 3 years ago?”

Bucky shrugged, “um, probably black out drunk on the floor of my bathroom or asleep in one of the study cubbies in the library. It was freshmen year, so…”

Steve laughed again and then shrugged and turned towards the fridge, “you go shower while I start dinner and then we’ll switch.”

Bucky started heading for the stairs, “deal.”

 

 

 

Today Bucky had been at the ranch for a month and as a reward Steve was leaving him completely unsupervised all day to take care of what needed doing. Steve had wanted to go check on Bucky at least 10 times, but Steve had resolutely stayed in the office and gotten some work done instead of micromanaging. Steve leaned back in his desk chair and tried to twist a little seeing if he could pop his back. What sort of weird body did he have that working on a ranch barely fazed him, but sitting at a desk for five hours made him feel 80?

He looked over at the photo on his desk as he often did. It was Peggy, on Lady’s back and leaning over to lay a chaste kiss on Steve’s lips where he stood beside the horse. They had been trying to take a serious photo but Peggy had got the giggles in the middle of it and he’d looked up at her amused and she’s leaned down and... you could tell they were both smiling into the kiss. 

Just thinking about it made Steve smile again. He had turned a corner last year where thinking of Peggy made him smile more than it made him sad. Her memory was always going to make certain parts of him ache, but now, more often than not, he could chuckle remembering something she’d said, or smile at the photos of them around the house. 

He got up, walked over to the closet in the office, bent down, and spun the dial on the fireproof safe. From the back of it he reached unerringly for a worn envelope that he’d held countless times in the last 3 years, but hadn’t touched in over 6 months. He’d memorized it really, but holding it was nice sometimes. Steve sat down at the desk and opened the envelope, removing the paper within containing Peggy’s neat penmanship. The letter she’d written to him in her final months. 

_My Dearest Steve,_

_Where do you begin a letter you don’t want to write? I’ll start with something easy to say, something I know with every fiber of my being. I love you. You have been the best husband - devoted, funny, caring, supportive, loving, passionate… if I never said it in so many words, thank you for this adventure that we get to call life. From the fire escape outside a tiny Brooklyn apartment to the open plains in the wilds of Wyoming, it was all that much more because I was with you._

_My parents raised me to expect great things from my life - the best education, a rich husband, lavish parties, fine cuisine, posh hobbies. But what they never understood is that my life with you was greater than any of that because we loved each other unconditionally. You loved me when I burnt dinner because no one had taught me to cook. I loved you when you smelled literally like a barn. Life hasn’t been lavish and it certainly hasn’t been easy, but we always went to bed with love and a shared dream between us. I wouldn’t trade six years of that for a lifetime of anything else._

_So, here’s the hard part my Darling, my story ends here and yours doesn’t. I need you to hear me out Steve, you stubborn man... yes, you are. Your life belongs to you. I’m gonna say it again. Your life belongs to you. What comes next will be up to you. I don’t want you doing anything because you think it’s what I would have wanted. And certainly don’t do a bloody thing my parents tell you to. You’ve always lived life on your own terms – don’t stop now._

_You have so much to offer the world. If your heart is here in Wyoming, then stay. If you want to sell the ranch and move somewhere, anywhere, then go. Be a cowboy. Be an artist. Be a teacher. Move to Antarctica if you want to. I’m just kidding, I know you hate to be cold._

_I’m with you always; nothing will change that. Not where you are. Not what you’re doing. Not all the love you let into your life after me. And there will be love after me, Steve. I truly believe that. There is someone else out there for you and they will love you just as wholly and just as madly and just as patiently as I have, because that is the sort of person you would give your love to. And you have so much love to give still. Maybe even just fall in like with someone. I know how terrible you are at flirting. Start small. You can do it. You charmed me, after all... well, after I punched you in the back, but still._

_We’ve spent so much time lately laughing, despite the tears, sometimes through the tears, and I know there will be more tears and more laughter for you when I’m gone. But let there also be life, Steve. Our life together was always about moving forward, about the dreams we were building and the plans we were making. Keep dreaming. Keep planning. Don’t look back. Remember, I’m not behind you. I’m beside you. And I’m cheering you on._

_All my Love,_

_Peggy_

Steve closed the letter, put it back in the envelope, placed the envelope onto the desk and just closed his eyes for a minute. Peggy had always seen all of Steve, for better and for worse. She’d known exactly how to word her letter in order to give him hope for a future without her, while not creating a future for him that he felt he had to measure up to. It was so Peggy that he’d smiled even as he sobbed the first time he read it. 

For the last 3 years he’d read this letter and he’d understood what Peggy was saying to him. But every time he’d folded the letter back up again and thought, _not yet Pegs, not yet._

But, now? Steve had started thinking about things. He had a plan to get the ranch back on track, he had an appointment with the bank in a few days, and depending on how it went Steve could either keep running a ranch that finally had its head above water, or sell a ranch that someone would actually want to buy. Either way, things were looking up. 

And now he had Bucky in his life, even if for a brief time. For the first time in 3 years, Steve felt drawn to another human being. Was that fate or the universe or God trying to tell him something? What were the chances this program managed to send him a guy who was legal and lethal looking and not sticking around? Maybe that’s just what Steve needed. Then again, he’d never been a casual type of guy.

Steve wasn’t even sure if Bucky  _was_  interested in men. And Steve understood that even if he was interested, it wasn’t gonna last longer than this summer. But, Steve wanted things he hadn't wanted since Peggy. He wanted to make Bucky laugh. He wanted to know how soft Bucky’s hair was, how his lips felt on Steve’s.

It was a strange sensation, experiencing want for the first time in a long time. But Steve was finally ready to revel in it, whereas a year or so ago he would've shoved it away. Maybe this was the moment to  _fall in like_  as Peggy had said.  _If_  Bucky was interested. If not? Well, then Steve at least had the indulgence of this crush he was carrying, bright and new and buzzy in his chest. Even just that was nice, like a heat pack on a muscle ache, he was just gonna relax into it. 

 

 

 

Bucky walked to the far edge of the porch as he waited for Clint to pick up the phone. Steve was making dinner, fully involved in some casserole recipe he wanted to try that was supposedly gonna taste like a taco when he was done.

Bucky had already placed a short call to his parents, his mother really, and reported that he was still alive and still in Wyoming. Clint finally picked up, “Well speak of the Devil, I was just talking to Bobbi on Fortnite and we were betting you’d been stampeded by wild horses since no ones heard shit from you for weeks!”

Bucky laughed, “well fuck man, I missed you too.”

Clint laughed and Bucky could hear the sound of gunfire in the back, “give me a minute to wrap this up and then we can talk. I’d just drop out of the session but then the whole team would go down in flames, no one I’m playing with can shoot for shit... yes, you too, Hunter, you piece of trash!”

Bucky smiled as he listened to Clint talk shit to the rest of their friends over the game. He missed them. It was weird to listen to something so familiar in his life and to be looking at a landscape that wasn’t. Nothing about being at the Truth & Justice felt real; it was a blip on the radar, a good story to tell once he got back to college. Except that it also felt _right_. Bucky was having a hard time reconciling his world and Steve’s world. Of course, come August, it wouldn’t matter.

Clint finally lost spectacularly and with a barrage of cursing that would make a sailor blush. He took a deep breath and said, “So, what’s up man?”

Bucky shrugged even though Clint couldn’t see him, “the usual, waiting for dinner to be ready, just finished getting the horses settled for the night, took a shower, now I’m just out on the porch looking at the open range.”

Clint made a hurmph noise, “I’m gonna be honest, you sound like a cowboy outta those trashy romance novels that my ex used to read.”

“Yeah, well, the guy that owns this place could actually play the part, full stop.”

Clint gave a fake ass, dramatic gasp, “does someone have a crush? Are you getting your Brokeback on in the wilds of Wyoming with your boss for the summer?!”

Bucky laughed and gave a less than aggressive fuck you over the phone to Clint, “first of all, boss is a real harsh word for it because he treats me better than any boss I’ve ever had. And second of all, I don’t like your implication, because no we haven’t.”

Clint whistled, “Well, that at least answers my first question. You have a big gay crush on Mr. Cowboy.”

Bucky sighed but he couldn’t hide the smile at Clint’s antics and he honestly didn’t even want to deny the whole crush thing anyway, it was nice to tell someone about it, even if it was stupid and one-sided.

“Dude,” Bucky watched as the setting sun turned the pasture a golden color, “you can’t call it a big gay crush...”

Bucky registered a noise behind him even as the words left his mouth, “I’m bi." 

Bucky turned and saw Steve leaning out the front door with his mouth open and a surprised look on his face.

He could hear Clint laughing in the phone as Steve simply said, “I was gonna... um... dinner is ready,” and then he made a hasty retreat and Bucky felt the porch sort of tilt and he had to sit down in one of the rocking chairs. This was not good.

He heard Clint’s voice, “Bucky? Earth to Bucky!”

Bucky snapped out of the haze he was in long enough to tell Clint that dinner was ready and he had to go.

“Okay man, but how about text me or send some snaps or something, so I know you’re alive the rest of the summer,” Clint waited for Bucky to agree before hanging up with a long _byyyyyyeeeeeee_.

Bucky sat and waited for the feeling to return to his limbs and then got up and went in the house. There was the slightest chance Steve hadn’t heard him and another possibility he wouldn’t care or would be cool with it. Then again, he could also ask Bucky to get the fuck out of his house.

He went to the sink to wash his hands and then got plates down as Steve put the finishing touches on the taco casserole hot and bubbling out of the oven. Bucky kept his movements relaxed, his shoulders down, and his voice neutral as he said, “smells good.”

Steve glanced at him with a small smile, “thanks, you could say my cooking skills have taken an up turn in the last few years.”

Bucky smiled back, “I like everything you make.”

Bucky thought Steve blushed but it was probably because he was standing in front of a still hot oven, “well, you’re a college student, so I’ll take that with a grain of salt.”

Bucky laughed and grabbed two beers out of the fridge, twisting the tops off and setting them on the bar as Steve served up the food.

They ate in relative silence, both of them lost in their thoughts for the most part. It was quieter then almost all their other dinners had been, but Steve hadn’t yelled or acted disgusted or asked Bucky to leave so either he didn’t hear it, was polite enough to just not mention it, or he didn’t care.

Still, Bucky waited all through dinner for the other shoe to drop. He was so tensed up by the end of dinner that when Steve stood up and reached over to take Buck’s plate to the sink Bucky flinched back. He didn’t think Steve would ever actually hit him, but his fight or flight instinct had processed the sudden movement all-wrong. Steve froze. They looked at each other for a long, slow minute and then Steve carefully took the plate and walked to the sink.

Steve’s voice was soft but firm and his back was still turned to Bucky though his words were undeniable, “you are safe here.”

Bucky let out a breath, “so you _did_ hear.”

Steve nodded, “I know you didn’t mean for me to and I’m sorry about that, you should be able to do something like that on your own terms.”

Bucky leaned back on the chair and felt a weight come off him, “I’m sorry I assumed you’d react badly.”

Steve turned around finally, his gaze heavy, he leaned back into the counter and crossed his arms “you don’t have to apologize to me. I’m from here, or near enough. I know exactly why you thought I might react badly.”

Bucky nodded, “that’s not an excuse. I shouldn’t assume the entire Midwest is homophobic. Shouldn’t judge a book by the cover and all that.”

Steve smiled and said, “you know what? Let’s grab another beer and head to the porch. I’ve got a story to tell you.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, “is this one of those teachable moment things? Are you trying to mentor me?”

Steve laughed, “maybe. But I’m also offering you more beer.”

Bucky nodded and headed for the fridge, “that seems fair.”

Bucky walked out to the porch, arranged himself in one of the rocking chairs, and took a swig of beer as Steve settled in the chair beside him.

They both stayed quiet for a bit, watching clouds roll in from the east, visible in the dark thanks to the heat lightning flashing and the thunder rolling across the sky every so often. It was a slow-moving summer storm, and they were in the forecast on and off for the next few weeks.

Steve finally broke the silence, “I wanna tell you about the night I met Peggy.”

Bucky turned his head to gaze attentively at Steve as he spoke.

“It was my sophomore year at NYU, I was at a party at one of the sorority houses. I’d managed to let loose a little more than normal, I had a buddy, Gabe Jones, kept bringing me drinks, trying to get me to loosen up. I wasn’t drunk, but I was feeling pretty carefree and I made eyes at this hottie... what do you guys call it nowadays? A dime?”

Bucky snorted into his beer, “okay, I get the point. Some good-looking girl caught your eye. Let me guess, Peggy?”

Steve grinned, “no, actually, _he_ was not Peggy but he was good looking and he was making eyes at me.”

Bucky straight up choked on his beer. It took him a minute to settle again but when he did Steve was smirking at him as he continued, “I motioned to the ceiling and he nodded and we proceeded to find an alcove in the hallway upstairs. I shoved him against the wall and we started kissing. It got heated. I was just about to suggest we take it somewhere more private when I felt, honest to god, someone punch me in the back and say, ‘hey, you get off him right now or I’ll pepper spray your arse!’”

Bucky laughed, glad that the darkness had covered the color on his cheeks at Steve’s brief description of that make out session. _Jesus_.

Steve laughed, “I drop the guy and turn around to find this beautiful, pissed off brunette with a can of mace pointed at my head. Now, I’m confused. Why am I being assaulted? So I try to calmly explain the situation to her. She made this face at me, like she didn’t believe a word I was saying and then she spits out, ‘nice try but this guy looks terrified.’”

Steve couldn't stop smiling and his eyes had a faraway look to them, “well, now I’m even more confused, so we both turn to the guy still hovering near the wall and he looks red in the face. But he blurts out that he’s fine, it’s fine. Peggy, of course, doesn’t believe him and now I’m starting to feel bad thinking maybe I misread the situation and he stammers out finally that he’d never been with a guy before and he had looked terrified because he was nervous.”

Bucky laughed, “so he panicked in the middle of his first gay make-out session and Peggy thought she caught some dude assaulting someone?”

Steve nodded, “yeah, and he was so mortified the poor guy just took off, left me in the hallway with a sore back and Peggy still clutching a can of pepper spray.”

Bucky grinned, “did she apologize?”

Steve nodded, “she did and then we ditched the party and went to get pizza and we were pretty much best friends from that moment on.”

Bucky frowned in confusion, “not more than friends?”

Steve shook his head, “nope, that came later.”

“So, Peggy knew you were bi from the start?” Bucky liked Peggy more and more with every story Steve told.

“Yeah, well, she thought I was gay. It wasn’t until later that I corrected her and that was probably the beginning of us being more. She always joked that our relationship started with a bang, just not the fun kind,” Steve chuckled, “and let me tell you, she had a mean right hook." 

Bucky let the conversation settle for a minute, thinking over what Steve had said.

Finally, he asked, “So you were only out in college?”

Steve nodded, “I told you I get why you thought I’d react badly. Anyway, I told my Mama before she passed and she was really wonderful about it.”

Bucky nodded back in agreement, “yeah, all my college friends know. Not my parents. Yet.”

Steve just smiled and took Bucky’s empty beer bottle to throw it away. He stood and stretched before saying, “well, like I said, no one should get to decide how and when you come out but you.”

Bucky looked towards the storm on the horizon, his thoughts swirling around like those black clouds, “thanks Steve.”

Steve just smiled and gave a final nod and made his way to the front door, “just lock up when you come in.”

Bucky said he would and then proceeded to get lost in his thoughts and the heat lightning show, not knowing that inside Steve was having a small breakdown as he cleaned up the kitchen from dinner.

What were the chances Steve thought, for the second time that day, that Bucky had ended up placed with him? He was so clearly Steve’s type. And now, Steve knew he was definitely interested in men. Of course, Steve was his boss... that felt... wrong? Bucky didn’t seem like the sort of guy to do anything he didn’t want to and Steve wasn’t paying him, so, it wasn’t a power dynamic thing, right? And the age thing hadn’t really been an issue all summer, shouldn’t be an issue if they slept together. Right 

?Steve had to lean against the counter and close his eyes. Was he seriously, honestly thinking about taking Bucky to his bed? The bed he had shared with Peggy? Steve heard thunder rumble and clap outside, and he could imagine Peggy grumbling at him for using her as an excuse. The words from her letter flashed across his mind again. It had been 3 years. Steve could do this; he could have this. 

Steve finished up in the kitchen with his thoughts still rolling across his mind like the storm outside. He heard the rain start, but Bucky was still outside. Steve shrugged and decided to head up to bed, if Bucky wanted to sleep out there he could.

Steve went through his nightly routine still thinking about it all, still undecided, still unbearably attracted to the young man currently sitting on his front porch.

 

 

 

“You keep cooking and I keep feeling guilty, so let me do the dishes. We have a rotating chore list at the frat house; I’m not helpless. It’s a dishwasher, not rocket science,” Bucky felt like he was preparing to do battle, squared up to Steve in the kitchen while the older and larger man stood between Bucky and the dishwasher with his arms crossed.

They’d had an even easier camaraderie between them since Bucky’s accidental confession and Steve’s front porch story session a few nights ago. That camaraderie was in danger currently because Bucky was trying to put his foot down about doing the dishes.

Steve frowned, “you’re my guest...”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “I’m an employee...”

Steve cut in, “who is working for free, and I agreed to feed and house you in exchange for that...”

Bucky threw up his hands, “nowhere in that stupid paperwork my Dad made me sign did it say anything about me not being able to do dishes. So get outta my way.”

Steve looked surprised suddenly and Bucky felt like maybe it was how vehemently he was arguing, but he didn’t think too long on it as it gave him the distraction he needed to dart past Steve and to the sink side of the kitchen where the dishwasher also was.

Bucky had picked up the first dish when he heard Steve say really quietly behind him, “are you here against your will?”

Bucky almost dropped the dish he whipped around so fast, “what?!”

Steve repeated the question looking vaguely ill, “are you here against your will?”

Bucky tried not to make whatever face he knew he was making, but had Steve lost his mind?

“I drove myself here,” was all he could think to say.

Steve looked unconvinced, “you said your Dad made you sign the paperwork.”

Bucky laughed uncomfortably, “He did. He even wrote the essay portion of the application for me. I read it...”

Steve nodded, “about how you needed a unique experience for your grad school resume and you wanted to make a difference and that you didn’t want to stand on your privilege, but to understand the value of hard work beyond the academic environment...”

Bucky shrugged, “well, he wasn’t wrong. He just made it sound a little more pompous than ‘my father thinks I need a reality check’ or ‘this is better than being expelled by the university’.”

“What?” Steve looked even more confused.

Bucky put the plate back down in the sink and turned to face Steve again, “I tried to stop some of my friends from vandalizing the Chancellor’s house. They got caught. I got caught up in it. No one believed that I was there trying to stop them, even though they vouched for me. My Dad gave UCLA a generous donation and in return the Chancellor left me out of the punishment if my Dad agreed to find a way to deal with my behavior on his own.”

“So your Dad decided that you needed to, what, do some hard labor to appreciate life?” Steve looked upset but Bucky wasn’t sure about which part.

Bucky shrugged, “my Dad doesn’t understand me Steve. He doesn’t know I’m bi. He doesn’t care what I want to do with my life. He doesn’t know I’m not the sort of person who TPs someone’s house. All he knows is that I’m getting a business degree like he wants and applying for MBA programs like he wants. Anything I do to deviate from the plan is me being ungrateful. I’m sure he thought I’d hate being here.”

“Do you?” Steve cocked his head like he was unsure if Bucky would give him a straight answer, “do you hate being here?”

Bucky smiled, “well, it sure as shit isn’t Miller High Life by the pool and clubbing in The Village.” 

Steve just continued to frown and Bucky sighed, “Look, I decided before I got here that I was gonna keep my head down this summer and just maybe, a little bit, actually try to make the best of the situation. I mean, the T&J doesn’t deserve my anger or apathy, my Dad does. That’s what my Dad doesn’t get about me. But, to be honest, we hardly see each other, and that’s as much my fault as it is his.”

Steve nodded, “that’s… mature. But it doesn’t answer if you want to be here. You want to leave, you can leave.”

Bucky raked a hand through his hair and tried to think about a response that wouldn’t give his feelings about Steve away. He couldn’t just say yes, Steve would want a reason. He decided to be as honest as he felt brave enough to be and to hell with it.

“I can’t say that I’d feel different if it hadn’t been you that walked out of the barn the first day,”

Bucky tried to sound nonchalant, “but it was and that was the end of me not wanting to be here.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed, “because?”

Bucky cursed his face even as he felt the blush rising, “because you’re nice and you need the help and you’re appreciative and you can cook and, you know, uh, other ... stuff...”

“Stuff?” Steve repeated, one brow cocked up and a slight smirk growing on his face.

Bucky just groaned in an aggrieved way and waved a hand in Steve’s general direction, “yes... your general you-ness.”

He turned back around to deal with the dishes in the sink with the hope that it would end the conversation. Bucky was very aware that Steve moved, but he thought he was moving away and so he flinched when he felt a presence at his back and Steve’s strong arms settled either side of him, hands gripping the counter instead of touching. He felt breath tickle the short hairs on the back of his neck and he slowly spun around, trapped between Steve and the counter.

Bucky looked up to bright blue eyes, a lazy smile, and that perfect perfect face and tried to calmly ask, “what are you doing?”

Steve looked from Bucky’s eyes to his mouth and back up causing goosebumps to rise all over his body before Steve said, “what I’ve wanted to do since I laid eyes on you.”

Bucky didn’t even have time to think about that particular piece of information before he was being kissed. Steve pressed his lips to Bucky’s and while a part of Bucky’s brain was questioning the reality of the situation the other part knew exactly what to do... if not with someone taller and broader than him. It was an adjustment for sure. The guy Bucky had fooled around with at that party last year had been smaller than him. Steve was not small.

Bucky went up on his toes even as he threw his arms around Steve’s neck to bring him closer somehow. Bucky figured out pretty quickly that kissing with your face tilted up was just like kissing with your face tilted down. Like how you had to kiss a girl in 7th grade because they were all suddenly taller than you.

Steve’s lips brushed across his again and again. Not demanding. Not in a hurry. Bucky wanted more. He tilted his face and flicked out his tongue to try and get Steve to reciprocate. It got him a moan and a curious, hot tongue pressing against his own. And then, holy fuck, Steve’s hands were gripping his hips, pressing Bucky closer to his body and all that hot, hard muscle was up against him, finally. God the things Bucky wanted to do to this man. The things he wanted Steve to do to him.

That’s when Bucky’s mind came to a screeching halt, because he could one hundred percent get down on his knees right now and it would probably be good. That other guy hadn’t complained, had said Bucky was good at giving head. A natural. He could’ve been lying, but Bucky doubted it.

Steve was 30 though. He had been married. He’d want to take this upstairs, right? Maybe lay Bucky out on the bed? Actually have sex. Or, did he want Bucky to fuck him? Either way, he’d have no idea how to make it good for Steve. He wanted to. He really did. But he didn’t know how and he didn’t want to say it out loud.

Bucky pulled back from the kiss, his anxiety increasing the longer he thought about it. The lust his body was riding high on was mixing with the stress to make him nauseous.

He must have looked panicked because the desire on Steve’s face slid rapidly into concern as he stepped back, “you okay?”

Bucky was okay, he was, he just couldn’t... 

“I can’t... I mean, I don’t know...” he started and didn’t know how to continue. He stood looking at Steve for another excruciating moment before just sort of taking off for his room like a bat outta hell. Leaving a probably very hurt and confused Steve in the kitchen, and Bucky didn’t know what to do about that either.

Fuck, he was so stupid. He shut the door to his bedroom and slid down the frame onto the floor. Give him a pretty girl and he could flirt his ass off, but give him Steve Rogers and suddenly he was a 17 year old virgin again.

Bucky had hooked up with a guy before. What had his name been? Jake? Jessie? He had been nice and flirty and understanding. They’d traded blow jobs in the upstairs bathroom at that house party last year. Bucky had been nervous. Had been anxious to finally, really, truly get his bisexuality confirmed. But he hadn’t _liked_ Jake/Jess. Hell, he’d never called or spoke to him again after he’d told Bucky he was good at sucking dick and gave him his number.

He liked Steve though. He wanted Steve to like him. Apparently, that was where Bucky lost his cool. Jesus. What was he gonna do? There was no coming back from this? They were gonna have to talk about it. What was he supposed to say? I wanna lose my gay virginity to you but I also want you to think I know what I’m doing?

He was never gonna see Steve again after this summer. This would be the perfect opportunity. Steve wouldn’t laugh at him. Steve would understand. But, God, what if Steve didn’t do virgins? A lot of people- gay, straight, bi, men, women - had a firm policy against taking people’s virginity. Why was his brain like this?!

He had hidden in his room the rest of the night and he hadn’t even breathed when he had heard Steve pause briefly outside his door before continuing down the hall to his own room later that night. Bucky prayed that come morning light, they could simply pretend that it hadn’t happened.

 

 

 

Steve had been amazingly obliging with Bucky’s silent prayers the next day. At breakfast he simply drank his coffee, surfed the web on his tablet, and then explained to Bucky the run-down of tasks for the day. Bucky felt like he had gotten away with something when Steve explained that he was going to leave most of the list to Bucky so he could spend some time in the office. He had a conference call with the bank at 2 and he had some things to get in order. Bucky tried not to look relieved but he must have failed because Steve’s face took on a pinched look.

“Look,” Steve sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck, “I’m really sorry about last night. I crossed a line and I made you uncomfortable and I... I’m just really sorry." 

Bucky had been trying to resolutely stare a hole in the floor the minute Steve had said ‘last night’, but the rest of his speech had Bucky jerking his head up in shock, “you’re sorry?”

Steve seemed both guilty and confused, “well, yeah, I don’t make a habit of coming on to people and I’m out of practice,” he smiled, a self-deprecating look on his face, “and I think I misread the situation.”

“Misread? I kissed you _back_. That’s not a misread.” Bucky couldn’t believe that this funny, hot as fuck, nice guy thought Bucky wasn’t interested. Of course that’s what Steve had taken away from the incident. Fucking punk.

Steve looked pained still so Bucky took a deep breath and sort of blurred out, “you didn’t misread the situation. I’m so into you it’s painful, I mean, fuck, who wouldn’t be?! You’re funny and nice and _hot like the sun_.”

Steve’s jaw dropped and Bucky had honestly never seen someone look so shocked and he knew if he didn’t keep going, if he stopped to overthink it again, he was going to literally melt into the floor in a puddle of shame and Steve would go on thinking last night was his fault, “I ran away last night because I’m a fucking walking pickup line when it comes to women and I’m so good at flirting, like, so good, right?”

Steve snorted and rolled his eyes but Bucky pressed on, “but you put your hands on me last night and I wanted everything. I wanted it all. I wanted to climb you like a tree, Steve,” Bucky watched as a blush crept up Steve’s neck and Bucky could feel that his own face was on fire, “and I don’t know how to do everything with you, with a guy. I’ve done some of it. But not everything. And I panicked, okay? And then, I thought, what if you just assumed I’m experienced, which is valid, but then, once you figured out I wasn’t would you still want to? You know?”

Bucky finally ran out of words and Steve just looked flabbergasted, which just sort of confirmed Bucky’s fears. When the silence stretched out between them he grabbed his boots, turned towards the door, and just said, “I’m gonna get started with the stalls,” and bolted out the door.

Steve didn’t come looking for him. Bucky didn’t blame him. He repeated the same mantra he had last night that Steve would just let it go. Sure, Bucky wanted Steve like burning, but he liked what they had and he didn’t want to mess it up… even to fulfill his bisexual bucket list, even if Steve was every freaking wet dream Bucky didn’t even know he had, even if Bucky couldn’t fathom the idea of losing his virginity to a nicer guy. Even then.

 

 

 

Steve had been, well, glow-y, wasn’t a word. But Bucky thought it fit Steve’s general disposition. Steve had spent a lot of time in the office today and Bucky thought maybe something had gone right with the bank because Steve had glowed all through supper and their nightly ESPN watching, and a cup of coffee before bed. Steve’s smiles had been easier and his laugh louder and if this was Steve Rogers really happy then Bucky wanted to know how he could make it happen all the time. 

All the awkwardness over last night and this morning had vanished and they’d existed side by side for the better part of the evening without Bucky bursting into flames or saying something as monumentally stupid as what he said this morning. Every once in a while Bucky thought he caught Steve looking at him thoughtfully out of the corner of his eye, but mostly Steve simply acted like everything in the last 24 hours never happened. So, really, things were looking up.

Bucky flopped down onto his bed and felt the muscles in his body relaxing in a protesting way that meant he had probably lifted one too many fifty-pound loads that day. He was still damp from his shower earlier and his stomach was full of food, and this wonderful bed he was laying on was calling his name. He could hear the rain hitting the roof as a storm rolled in.

He felt his eyelids getting heavy and he briefly thought about trying to find a sleep shirt to match the pajama pants he had on, but then he just sort of disregarded any idea that required him moving. He heard Steve call his name and he reluctantly hauled himself off the bed to open his door and stick his head out.

He looked down the hall and Steve was motioning for him from his bedroom door, “come here for a minute.”

Bucky tried to stamp down any lingering thoughts he had about his word-vomit moment this morning and quell any reasons Steve would have for asking Bucky into his bedroom that was reminiscent of what Bucky was now calling The Kitchen Sink Incident.

When he stepped into the room Bucky noticed immediately the large bed in the room and mentally kicked himself, before forcing his eyes to travel over the light colored wooden furniture and the serene blue walls. Steve was standing in the middle of the room, his hands crossed over his chest and the light grey sleep shirt he had on. Bucky had the sudden urge to cross his arms over his own chest and wondered why he hadn’t had the forethought to put on a shirt.

Steve cleared his throat, “I think that we’re not communicating very well and I’ve had a lot of time today to think about it and I have a plan.”

Bucky wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t that. A plan? Steve had a plan?

Steve held his hand out to Bucky, “I’m going to try a different approach and ask that you take my hand if you’d like to give this another try between us.”

Bucky tried not to do anything stupid as he moved forward, he willed his heart to stop skipping beats and his head to stop buzzing so he could think and not overreact, “another try as in…”

Steve smiled, “another try as in I actually use my words and explain to you that if you’d like to, as you put it, climb me like a tree, that I would like that as well.”

Bucky was sure his face was scarlet but he smirked anyway, “not one of my better lines.”

He slipped his hand into Steve’s outstretched one, the skin warm and a little rough from work against Bucky’s own, “Yes, I would like to try this again.”

Steve tugged Bucky closer, until their bodies were pressed together and Bucky could feel the soft cotton material of Steve’s shirt against his skin. Bucky attempted short, even breaths and looked up into Steve’s deep blue eyes. He could see the beginnings of crow’s-feet around the edges, but Bucky thought it made him look more real, more human, more someone who could possibly want someone like Bucky.

Steve leaned down and pressed his mouth against Bucky’s, their lips meeting for the second time in a hesitant touch that soon escalated into more. Bucky groaned, remembering all the doubts he’d had about this last night but determined to push through them this time. He felt Steve surge against him at the noise and he pressed his tongue in as Bucky opened his mouth and tilted his head up further. He could feel Steve’s hands skimming his back, traveling up across Bucky’s skin with the tips of his fingers, making Bucky tremble and moan again.

Bucky pulled back and locked his own soft blue-grey eyes with Steve’s, before he said with a rueful smile, “There’s still going to come a point in all this where I don’t know what I’m doing…”

Steve swiped his thumb over Bucky’s bottom lip and just said calmly, “I’m going to show you,” he grinned and kissed Bucky on the nose, quick and light, “and, if it makes you feel better, keep in mind that it’s been a long time for me too, with a guy, but also, with anyone, so you’re not the only one who’s nervous. We’re just gonna take this real slow.”

Bucky nodded and moved up to claim Steve’s lips in a kiss, bolder now with the knowledge that they were finally on the same page. Kissing, he could do, really well, thank you very much. Bucky felt Steve moving him back slowly towards the bed before a loud crack of thunder sounded above the house, causing him to jump apart from Steve.

Steve took the opportunity to take his own shirt off, he smiled tentatively at Bucky, “you tell me if I do something you don’t like. Or, if you get anxious again. We’ll stop. I’d prefer you not literally running from me again.”

Bucky chuckled and nodded as he raked his hands down Steve’s chest, dipping his fingers into the minute valleys of Steve’s abs. He leaned forward to taste the salt and warmth of Steve’s skin at the hollow of his throat. He wanted to explore and taste some more. He wanted to do all the things he’d ever secretly thought about doing since he’d thought about, well, doing this, specifically with Steve. They fell onto the bed.

Bucky’s breath caught as Steve rolled Bucky underneath him, claiming his mouth in another searing kiss as their bodies moved together. Steve pulled back to look down at him with a smile and Bucky noticed the lights flickering just as he heard another crack of thunder. Steve lifted up to his knees, Bucky’s legs hugging the outside of Steve’s thighs, giving a surprised squeeze when Steve ran a hand, feather-light across Bucky’s stomach.

Steve balanced on one hand while the other continued the slow, careful stroking of Bucky’s shoulder, bicep, nipple, abs, and hipbone. Steve seemed eager to touch and watch Bucky’s reaction. When he’d done that a few times he started following the gentle touches with his lips and teeth and tongue, working to figure out what made Bucky jump and what made him moan.

Steve always stopped at Bucky’s waistband. The tease was making Bucky’s blood boil and his body tighten with every little thing Steve did. Bucky pressed his hands into Steve’s shoulders, ran his fingers through his hair and worked really hard not to thrust his hips up into Steve’s, hovering just inches from where Bucky wanted. If Steve would just sink down off his knees, spread them a little, then his cock, obviously hard in his sweats, would be flush against Bucky’s own aching erection.

Instead of sinking down, Steve moved back, taking his dick farther away from Bucky’s and his disappointment was so palpable that for a minute he missed Steve’s actual intent, until Bucky felt fingers finally dipping into the waistband of his pajama pants and they were being pulled down and off. Bucky gasped as he watched Steve grip his hips in large, strong hands and pin Bucky to the bed before licking up his length.

Bucky let his head smack backwards into the pillow and he used a few cuss words and Steve’s name liberally as the licks turned into sucking and that turned in to Steve seeing how far he could take Bucky into his mouth. The answer was pretty far despite being, “out of practice”, as he put it when he mumbled in-between filling his mouth with Bucky’s cock. Bucky was torn between wanting to catalog everything Steve was doing so he could keep it in mind for his own future knowledge, and needing to keep his eyes closed so he could concentrate on not coming stupidly fast.

Bucky could feel his muscles twitching against his will even as he tried to stay still, tried not to grip Steve’s hair too tight or dig his nails into his shoulder too sharply. But Steve’s hands kept Bucky’s hips from going too far in any direction. It was helping Steve sure, so Bucky’s enthusiasm didn’t choke him, but it was also having quite the effect on Bucky. He was discovering something new about himself, mainly that the more he comprehended Steve had the strength to hold him in place the more Bucky realized he wanted to be held in place. Steve’s strength and size were just enough beyond Bucky’s that he was able to discover how much he enjoyed not just being with a man, but being with a _bigger_ man.

Steve did something swirly feeling with his tongue and Bucky couldn’t help but give a more forceful thrust of his hips. Steve felt the shift, compensated, gripped Bucky tighter and pressed down more firmly, and Bucky made a desperate groaning sound. Steve’s blue eyes snapped up to Bucky’s face and Bucky felt himself turning red at the assessing gaze. Bucky knew the moment the light bulb went off in Steve’s brain because there was a flurry of motion and Steve’s hands were coming off Bucky’s hips as his mouth came off Bucky’s cock.

Before Bucky could even think to protest, Steve had shouldered Bucky’s legs wider apart and stuck his arms underneath his thighs, curling his forearms around and splaying his fingers out on Bucky’s inner thighs. In this new position Bucky had even less room to maneuver and Steve had him splayed open and held tight. Steve smirked at Bucky’s surprised and breathless noise, before he took Bucky back into his mouth and Bucky gave-up all pretense of trying to hold out. He gripped the sheets in his fists, let his body go slack in Steve’s grip, and rode the wave as he felt it cresting.

He had just enough left in him to warn Steve of his impending orgasm, for all the good it did. Steve stayed right where he was, only lifting his eyes to hungrily watch Bucky come apart with a shout. By the time Steve disengaged and crawled up Bucky’s body, Bucky was barely coherent enough to get his arms around Steve’s neck and drag him in for a kiss, tasting himself in Steve’s mouth.

Bucky lay there for a second in the afterglow, already calculating the ways in which he could return the favor to Steve. But, of course, he wouldn’t be nearly that good at it. Bucky had heard that enthusiasm made-up for skill though. He wanted to explore Steve’s body. He wanted to bring him pleasure. He could feel Steve hard and hot against Bucky’s now naked body and he thought about the fact that in 3 years not another human being had touched Steve like Bucky was about to. Something about that eased something in him. This wasn’t some quick fuck in the bathroom at a party. This was beyond that, and yet, the certainty of it made Bucky less nervous, not more.

Steve moved to reach for something in the drawer of the bedside table. He came back with a bottle of lube and a condom. Bucky groaned just thinking about what Steve was gonna do with that. He wanted it so badly. He’d only ever had his own fingers, watching porn to try and figure out what he liked. Bucky couldn’t wait to feel Steve’s fingers inside him. But, first, he wanted Steve underneath him.

Bucky sat up slowly, hands pushing and pulling until Steve was relaxed on the bed beneath him and Bucky was straddling his hips. Steve smiled, “I’m happy to do it this way too.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow and grinned back, “that’s good to know, but I’m still planning on letting you fuck me. I just want to explore a little first. Turnabout is fair play.”

Bucky punctuated his words by brushing his thumbs over Steve’s nipples and was pleased with the full-body shudder it got him; accompanied by a surprised, “oh,” sound. Bucky set about licking and sucking and nipping all the places on Steve’s body he wanted to. He returned to the areas that got particularly satisfying responses. Steve seemed to particularly like Bucky’s teeth on the underside of his jaw and Bucky’s thumbs pressed into the soft skin inside his hipbones.

Bucky finally slid down and helped liberate Steve of his sweatpants. Once they were off and on the floor somewhere, Steve spread his legs to make room in-between them. Bucky settled in the v of Steve’s legs and considered his next step; maybe he should ease into it. He licked his palm and took Steve in his hand, setting a slow up-and-down motion to get a feel for it. With his tongue he first explored Steve’s Adonis belt because he could.

He finally moved to put his mouth on Steve’s cock, starting with a swirl at the head to taste and then working Steve into his mouth with shallow thrusts and a firm grip still on his shaft; it was better to go about this in a way he knew he could handle than to try some advanced shit and fuck it up. Bucky had always prided himself on knowing his limits. He looked up through his lashes to check-in with Steve and his rhythm faltered. Steve had his hands fisted in the sheets, probably to keep them from gripping or pushing at Bucky’s, his head was thrown back so that the long line of his throat was exposed, and he was taking shallows breaths that ended on a small moan every other time Bucky pulled off and sunk back down a little deeper.

Bucky sped up his pace, tightened his fingers at the base where his mouth couldn’t reach and started to give a twist every time he bobbed up. Giving a good blowjob while sober was both more satisfying and more work. His jaw hurt a little and he was outta breath, but it was all worth it to watch and listen to Steve come apart beneath him. Steve opened his eyes finally and looked down at Bucky, reaching one hand up to gently trace where Bucky’s jaw was stretched wide to take Steve as far down as he could.

“Close,” was all his managed to stutter out and Bucky doubled down, fucking hell if he could bong a beer then he could swallow. He felt Steve tense even more under him and then Steve was coming with a whimper and Bucky had to concentrate on keeping his throat open. He pulled off, rather smug-feeling and pressed his body along Steve’s, trailing his palm up and down the heaving chest and stomach beside him as Steve came down from his orgasm.

Steve reached for him after a long moment, pulling Bucky half on top of him and bringing him down into a kiss that Steve immediately turned filthy as he thrust his tongue into Bucky’s mouth. He rolled so that Bucky was back under him again and finally pulled back to look down at him.

“That was fantastic,” he said, still a little breathless.

Bucky tried hard not to blush under the praise so he smirked instead, “I think I can do better. Practice makes perfect.”

Steve laughed, his face relaxing into the grin he was giving and Bucky felt a flutter somewhere around his sternum that was definitely something to shove ruthlessly down. 

“Speaking of practice,” Steve’s voice dropped as he reached for the bottle of lube, “now that we’ve both taken the edge off…”

Bucky shivered, licking his lips at Steve’s hungry look. Bucky wasn’t sure it was possible to be so turned on and so nervous at the same time, but here he was. Steve coated his fingers in lube and left the bottle within easy reach. Bucky tried to relax his body as much as he could, but Steve didn’t even touch him, instead he pressed his lips into the inside of Bucky’s left thigh, then down to his knee, and then back up and over, skipping over his half hard cock and down the other leg. He continued this slow, maddening game until Bucky was thinking about the pattern and Steve’s soft lips on his skin.

Bucky tensed back up as he felt one of Steve’s fingers against his entrance, rubbing and pressing but not pushing in. He relaxed again and took a few breaths, looking down and Steve continued the soft, small kisses, every once in a while opening his mouth to let his teeth graze the skin, his eyes checking in with Bucky.

“Remember when I told you we were going to take this slow,” Steve smiled up at him from between his legs and Bucky thought he was understanding for the first time what people meant when they talked about wanting to sit on someone’s face.

Bucky rocked his hips towards the rubbing motion of Steve’s fingers and it pressed the pad of Steve’s finger more firmly against his hole. He moaned and bit at his lip before replying, “I hope you don’t want to take it too slow.”

“Glacial,” Steve said even as he pressed his finger in. Bucky pushed his hips down again trying to get Steve to move a little faster.

“You know, I haven’t used toys or anything, but I’ve at least fingered myself,” Bucky panted, “we could speed it up just a little.”

Steve smirked and thrust one finger in all the way, pressing up and dragging down and pulling out before repeating the process a few times. Bucky swore, his hips jerking and his hands clenching in the sheets, but a fervent, “yes,” leaving his lips.

Steve still seemed keen to drag it out a little, but he did eventually work Bucky up to two fingers and then finally three with more lube until Bucky was rocking his hips down and fully hard again. The only thing that made Bucky feel better about his level of desperation was that when Steve finally moved to get the condom Bucky could see that he was rock hard again too.

Steve seemed to be concentrating on getting the condom on without touching himself too firmly which meant that he’d really, really liked fingering Bucky open. Bucky’d be more pleased about it if he wasn’t a panting, writhing, strung out mess whose brain still hadn’t shut completely off; there were at least still two whole brain cells screaming at him that he was about to get fucked for the first time.

Steve made a motion with his finger that seemed to mean turn over because he said, “this is gonna be easier on your hands and knees the first time. That way you’ll feel like you can pull away if I do something you don’t like.”

“I trust you,” Bucky stated matter-of-factly.

“I appreciate that and I promise I’ll go slow just like I said, but trust me, you’ll still feel more in control like this. We can try it any way you want after this, okay?”

Bucky shrugged and rolled over, rising up to his hands and knees even as he grumbled, “I think you just want my ass in the air.”

Steve chuckled behind him, “you got me,” and then he was shuffling up behind Bucky, his hands on Bucky’s hips, “if your arms get tired just put your chest to the bed or grab a pillow and wrap your arms around it to rest your upper body on.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile to himself; Steve was being an absolute gentleman about this, just like Bucky knew he would be. It was endearing and maddening, because Bucky knew he would be grateful later that Steve had put his pleasure and comfort above his own, but Bucky’s body was currently very upset that things weren’t happening faster.

Steve finally, finally took one hand off Bucky’s hip to guide his dick until he was pressing in and Bucky’s brain was a mantra of _relax, relax, relax_. Steve’s breathing was erratic like someone who was out of breath and trying so hard not to be. Bucky felt the burn and the pressure and was glad that Steve seemed to be stopping every few seconds to let him adjust. It seemed like forever that Steve slowly worked his way into Bucky, until he finally felt Steve’s hips settle against him. He stuttered out a breath and took stock of the situation.

He had gone down to only half hard, and he was glad Steve had suggested this position because Bucky _had_ felt more in control. Steve had entered him gradually enough that Bucky hadn’t felt any sort of knee-jerk reaction to pull away. He didn’t feel any pain, just stretched out. He lowered himself to his forearms, forehead to the mattress, and let his legs spread out just a little more, trying to find a more comfortable position.

Steve groaned as Bucky shifted, moving with Bucky and using his hands to stroke and soothe, pinching a nipple, stroking Bucky’s cock back to life a little, and bending to place kisses along Bucky’s spine that made him shiver, “I promise it’s going to get better once I move. I’ll go slowly at first. You say stop, we stop, okay?" 

Bucky groaned out an affirmative noise as Steve started to slowly pull his pelvis back, his hands back to gripping Bucky’s hips, steadying him without trying to control.

Suddenly Bucky had a thought, swirling to the front of his mind through the fog of everything he was feeling. He picked his head up off his arms and reached a hand back to place it over Steve’s where it gripped his hip, “hey, you too.”

Steve stilled, and Bucky could hear the confusion in his voice, “what?”

“I mean, if _you_ need to stop for any reason, same goes, just tell me,” Bucky couldn’t imagine the thoughts and emotions that might be running through Steve’s mind and he honestly couldn’t really think too hard about it or he’d _over_ think it. But, he wanted Steve to know that he had an out too.

He felt Steve’s hands tighten and his breath leave him in a surprised huff. It was all the warning he got before Steve was folding over him, pressing his chest to Bucky’s back and his forehead to the back of Bucky’s neck. Steve must have been working to keep some of his weight off Bucky, because he knew Steve had to be heavier than he felt right now pressing Bucky down.

Bucky shuddered as Steve’s lips landed soft and open on the knobs at the top of Bucky’s spine before he whispered, “thank you.”

Bucky shivered but didn’t say anything. He knew with every fiber of his being and every firing synapses he had available that Steve was thanking him for more than saying Steve could nope out at anytime. Later, much later, Bucky would look back on this moment and understand that this was when things had shifted; the roller coaster of Bucky’s emotions about Steve had barely fallen into the first drop when it’d gone off the tracks. He’d realize that _later_. But right now, he wasn’t thinking about later. He was thinking about the soft words Steve was pressing into his skin and the hard line of Steve’s cock pressed into his body.

Steve rose up off him, slowly pulling back and then pressing back in. The air punched out of Bucky’s lungs and he folded down again, closing his eyes to focus on the feeling of Steve thrusting slowly in and out of him. It was pleasant actually, once he adjusted to the stretch and the odd feeling of being so full. But, it wasn’t, like, mind-blowing.

Steve sped up every few thrusts and he used a hand to press Bucky’s lower back down so Steve was thrusting at a different angle and then suddenly he found Bucky’s prostate. Just like with Steve’s fingers, and his own when he’d tried it, Bucky felt like his body was lit from the inside. Abruptly everything in him was constricting to try and keep the sensation going. Bucky made some sort of obscene noise he’d deny if pressed. Steve didn’t seem to be doing any better; he was groaning like he was in pain, and maybe he was.

Steve sounded like his teeth were gritted when he panted out, “do you need me to slow down?”

Bucky shook his head no and then realized Steve might need verbal confirmation, “no, fuck, no, more, faster.”

“Buck,” Steve’s new version of his name sounded like it had been dragged kicking and screaming up his throat. Bucky pressed his ass back to punctuate his need.

Steve took him at his word, fucking into him harder and faster, aiming for Bucky’s sweet spot and hitting it more than he didn’t. It was fantastic. Better than he’d thought. Better than he’d hoped for. Bucky jerked suddenly when he felt Steve reach around to grip Bucky’s cock to stroke him.

“Steve,” Bucky practically sobbed out, his body was on fire, his spine bowing and his lungs constricting. It was heaven and hell and a deeper more intimate pleasure than he’d ever felt with any of the girls he’d been with. Bucky’s mind tried to ponder if it was the act of bottoming or just being with Steve, but the idea floated away from him as his orgasm came roaring forward.

Steve stroked him through it all until Bucky was trembling, his muscles tightening and quivering in the aftershock of it all. He stayed where he was, pushing back with a roll of his hips to try and signal to Steve that he was okay to keep going until Steve came. He didn’t have to wait long. Once he didn’t have Bucky’s pleasure to focus on as much Steve switched to short, hard thrusts until he came with a gasp and a muffled curse.

Steve pulled out slowly, moving off the bed to deal with the condom and disappearing for a minute. By the time Bucky got his body coordinated enough to turn over Steve was coming back through a door that must be a bathroom. He had a washcloth in his hand and he climbed back onto the bed, reaching out to wipe Bucky’s stomach off and then down through his legs to clean him off there too. It was oddly intimate. Bucky worked with Steve to pull the covers down as they settled under the sheets.

Bucky had assumed that Steve would ask him to go back to his room, but he didn’t. He lay down on his back and pulled Bucky to him like they’d done it a million times. Bucky went with it, figuring that Steve would tell him if he needed space.

Bucky laid with his head on Steve’s chest, feeling those rough, calloused fingers trail delicately up and down his spine. He allowed himself to give the room more attention now that he wasn’t so focused on the bed. There was a picture on the wall of Steve and Peggy on their wedding day. It made Bucky ache a little to see how happy they had been, how obviously in love. He thought maybe he’d feel some shame, in this room and in this bed with Steve, but he didn’t. Steve had been an open book about Peggy and Bucky had a good enough sense now about Peggy, and about Steve, to feel okay about it.

Steve had obviously followed his gaze though because he said quietly, “are you feeling weird? You can talk to me about it.”

Bucky shook his head where it rested on Steve, “no, I just, well, it’s not my place, but sometimes, I just get sad for you I guess.”

He felt Steve’s breath catch, “sometimes I get sad for me too.”

Steve’s hand moved to Bucky’s hair, “but I know for a fact that wherever Peggy is right now she’s saying something that sounds suspiciously like ‘about fucking time Rogers’.”

Just then a flash of lightning, bright and intense, streaked across the sky and lit up the interior of the bedroom, followed almost immediately by a crack of thunder. Bucky jerked up to look down at Steve with wide eyes, who was looking back just as shocked.

Bucky whistled, “I heard that loud and clear.”

Steve cracked up. He threw his head back and laughed. Bucky laughed too, their bodies jostling against one another as they shook with humor. Steve laughed until tears formed in his eyes and then maybe a few more tears sprang up that weren’t laughter. Bucky wiped them away, not saying a word as they both calmed down. He lay back down in Steve’s embrace and they fell asleep to the sound of rain on the roof as the storm passed over.

 

 

 

It took two weeks for them to adjust to the new normal once they got past the first morning-after awkwardness. Bucky had woken to an empty bed and retreated to his own room to get ready for the morning. When he went downstairs it was just like any morning except that as Steve went to hand Bucky a mug of coffee he also reached out and reeled Bucky in with a hand around the back of his neck, kissing him soundly on the mouth.

Bucky had made a noise of surprise before melting into the kiss and opening his mouth to let Steve’s taste of coffee mix with Bucky’s own lingering toothpaste taste. When Steve pulled back he must have seen the surprise on Bucky’s face because his own brow furrowed, “was that okay?”

Bucky nodded and took the coffee, “of course, I just wasn’t sure you wanted…” Bucky trailed off not sure how to put what he had assumed Steve wanted.

Steve sighed, “You thought it was a onetime thing.”

Bucky shrugged, “Well, that, and also, you know, what happens in that dark and all that…”

Bucky took a scalding hot swallow of coffee to avoid saying whatever he was going to say after that because it was clear he had upset Steve in some way.

Steve leaned back against the counter with more shock on his face than hurt though, “you thought I was going to sleep with you and then spend the rest of the time acting like we hadn’t?" 

Bucky sighed and put the coffee down, “I honestly didn’t think anything Steve. But, if I had, then, yes, any number of scenarios, including that one, probably would have flashed through my brain.”

Bucky gave in to his baser impulses, moving to press his body flush against Steve’s and run his fingers through that beautiful blond hair, “I just want you to be comfortable,” and Bucky was surprised to find it was true.

He wanted to get laid again. He wanted he and Steve to do any number of delicious things to each other’s bodies. He wanted to talk to Steve like they had been talking on the porch, but now he wanted to do it naked with Steve’s fingers painting his body like soft brush strokes on a canvas. But, more than any of that, he wanted to not make Steve uncomfortable in his own home for any reason.

Steve huffed out a breath and said, “how about you let me worry about me. I’ve been doing it for a while now.”

Bucky grinned up at him and tried to take it as the joke it was meant to be and not the sad truth it actually was, “okay.”

Bucky pressed up on the balls of his feet just enough to plant another good morning kiss on Steve, this one with more tongue, because he could.

 

 

 

Bucky seemed happy to let Steve set the pace. He initiated small touches and kisses here and there, but he always let Steve escalate their moments together. He always retired to his room at night and he always waited for Steve to invite him, or drag him, into Steve’s bedroom. Some nights he didn’t and Bucky seemed okay with that too. Steve wasn’t sure if Bucky was letting him lead in deference to Steve’s experience or his grief. Either way, it was thoughtful.

It was Thursday and Steve had stayed in the house again most of the day doing paperwork and getting everything set to turn in the new refinance package the bank had decided to work with him on. Steve was pleased with himself for negotiating it. He had worked until late afternoon and then started putting dinner together.

But now it was getting dark and Steve was worried that Bucky hadn’t come in at sunset. He left dinner in the oven and went out onto the porch. The lights in the barn were on, so he strolled down and poked his head in the door. Bucky’s phone was plugged into the old radio he’d hauled out of the tack room, playing the alternative Spotify playlist he seemed to prefer.

Bucky was leaned up against Howler’s stall door at the other end of the barn, petting the horse on the nose and talking in a low voice. Steve leaned up against the entrance and just watched the way Bucky’s body leaned into Howler and the door separating them, the way he laughed softly when the horse snuffled at his hair and sniffed at his hands for peppermints.

Watching Bucky interact with the animals was mesmerizing; he always found such joy in their continued interest in him, as if he was pleased that they found him worthy of attention. Steve sometimes forgot how full of wonder this life could be, how gratifying it was to care for these animals and this land. Bucky was making him remember those early days when he had seen this place he was from through Peggy’s eyes. It had been magical then too. 

“You gonna stand there like a creeper or are you gonna join me,” Bucky hadn’t turned his head, but he’d clearly known Steve was there.

Steve moved into the barn just as the song changed to something slow and a little melancholy. His ears perked up at the familiar tune, “this is a good song.”

Bucky did look over then, moving away from Howler and grinning as he approached Steve, “you like the Avett Brothers?”

Steve nodded, opening his arms to Bucky and bringing him in to a hug. He smelled like horses and sweat and leather. Steve curled one arm even tighter around Bucky’s waist and brought the other up to cup the back of his neck. He felt Bucky’s hands tighten on his hip and shoulder as they both relaxed into the embrace. 

“Would you like to dance?” Bucky challenged with a cocky eyebrow raise.

Steve made a face, “I can’t dance very well, but I can try.”

That earned him an eye roll, “all you have to do is sway back and forth,” Bucky started to move, “like this. In a circle.”

Steve found that he could indeed shuffle in a circle with Bucky in his arms. This was way simpler than the formal dances Peggy had tried to teach him. The music swirled around them, mixing with the sounds of the night filtering in through the open barn door and the sounds of the horses moving about in their stalls.

The yellow glow of the barn lights were illuminating Bucky’s face as he looked up at Steve. Something stirred in Steve, like an old engine trying to turn over after years of being idle. He looked down into Bucky’s eyes and ruthlessly shoved whatever it was down.

Steve pressed his lips down into Bucky’s own. He used his hand on Bucky’s neck to steady him as their dancing slowed to a halt and their tongues danced instead. Bucky pressed forward, gripping Steve and pressing him tight against Bucky’s front. They traded soft kisses as the song wound down and another started.

Steve licked into Bucky’s mouth and smiled, pulling away to whisper, “someone’s been stealing peppermints from the horses.”

Bucky just smiled and leaned in to nip at Steve’s bottom lip before pulling back and tilting his head back to look up at Steve and ask about dinner. Steve just used that as an opportunity to trail his lips down the side of Bucky’s neck, mouthing at the tendons and feeling heat pool in his gut when it made Bucky shudder against him. 

Bucky whined, “Steve, I want to continue this, you know I do. But, I’m also _very_ hungry.”

Steve made himself stop kissing on Bucky to lift his head and laugh, “well, the good news is that dinner is done.”

Bucky pulled away as well and moved to retrieve his phone, “is there bad news?”

“Well, it may also be burning as we speak. I wasn’t exactly planning for a make-out session when I came out here to find you. I left dinner in the oven.”

Bucky laughed as he slid the barn doors closed behind them, “worth it.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed as they headed up to the house together.

 

 

 

They had gotten carried away this morning and now the mid-afternoon summer sunshine was coming in through the windows and Steve watched the dust motes float in the beams of light. He was lying on his stomach between Bucky’s legs on the bed, both of them relaxed from earlier activities. He was rubbing his nose along the soft skin of Bucky’s stomach, which was making the younger man chuckle.

Steve folded his hands on top of Bucky’s belly and laid his chin on top of his hands, looking up at him, “we can’t lay about in bed all day.”

Bucky sighed, “it’s Sunday.”

Steve smiled, “cows don’t care if it’s Sunday.”

“Five more minutes,” Bucky said, his eyes falling closed as his body relaxed even more under Steve, “I need beauty rest. Someone woke me up to have sex.”

Steve winked at him, “oh, I’m sorry, next time I won’t wake you up.”

Bucky cracked an eye open, “in that scenario, do I eventually wake up to you jerking off beside me, or to you fucking me while I’m sleeping?”

Steve felt himself flush a little and his breath caught, “my, my, someone lost all their shame.”

Bucky grinned now, both eyes open, “I never had much shame. Just gotta get comfortable where I’m at before I let loose the real naughty jokes.”

“And you’re comfortable now?” Steve asked.

“Why’d you think I don’t wanna get up?” Bucky ran a hand through Steve’s hair.

Steve hummed but didn’t say anything else. They floated in the warm comfort of the hot July sun on the sheets until Steve had a thought, “what about me makes you comfortable?”

Bucky’s hand stopped its journey through Steve’s hair for a second before starting up again, but he seemed to actually be considering the question instead of answering with a joke, “you never call me kid.”

Steve’s eyes widened a bit as Bucky continued, “even before this thing between us, you treated me like a peer, like a friend, with respect, didn’t talk down to me.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “you’re an adult. A young one. But an adult.”

“Some people think so. Some people don’t,” Bucky scratched his nails on the back of Steve’s neck and Steve knew Bucky was thinking of his father.

Steve let his eyes close, “some people don’t count.”

Bucky made an agreeing sound and then said, “you still won’t let me ride Howler.”

Steve laughed, “I wouldn’t let a professional bull rider almost twice as old as you ride Howler.”

Bucky scoffed, “that’s not true. _You_ ride Howler. He’s not that bad. And we have a _connection_.”

“I let you get on that horse before you’re both ready and the only thing you’re gonna have a connection with is the ground.”

Bucky laughed at that, “fine, fine.”

Steve got up finally, pushing off the bed to start getting ready. Bucky stretched and rolled around before getting out of bed and going down the hall to his room to do the same.

It wasn’t until they were both at breakfast that Steve remembered their earlier conversation with a start, “wait,” he set his fork down, “do you want me to fuck you awake?”

Bucky choked on his coffee, thumping himself on the chest for a second and taking a deep breath before he could answer Steve, “I, uh, it’s sorta one of those things you fantasize about, but don’t know exactly what it would be like on the practical side of things.”

“Huh,” was all Steve said. He wasn’t unbelievably turned on by the idea of what Bucky was proposing, but he wasn’t _not_ intrigued.

Bucky just took another cautious sip of coffee and let it ride in silence until Steve finally picked up his fork and said, “I’ll think about it.”

Steve watched as Bucky seemed to have his own sort of sudden thought, blurting out, “do you have fantasies?”

Steve answered honestly because he thought this conversation was important, “sure. Everyone does.”

Bucky nodded, “yes, but, no, I mean, you said it’s been a long time since you’ve been with a guy, and, I mean, I’m willing to try things, I suppose, if there’s something you really used to like doing that we haven’t done, maybe... we can?”

Bucky lost his enthusiasm at the end which Steve assumed was because Steve’s face was an open book and right now his brain was a strange mix of hot under the collar and sheepish. It was thoughtful of Bucky to consider that Steve hadn’t been with a man in years and that there might be things that he liked beyond what they had been doing or beyond what Bucky himself liked. Steve smiled and it seemed to ease the tension in Bucky’s shoulders from his outburst.

Steve considered Bucky across the bar for a moment and then just nodded his head and said, “That’s very thoughtful. I suppose… well, I’ll have to think about it.”

 

 

 

How was it already July? Bucky would be leaving in a little over a month to head back to California. His parents were flying in from NYC for a week or so before he started classes to spend time with him. Bucky thought it was much more likely that his Dad wanted to make sure his summer experience had done it’s job and that Bucky was ready to buckle down for the Fall. There would be senior seminar on top of the final classes he needed to graduate, and taking the GMAT in order to start applying for grad schools. Just thinking about it made him more tired than hauling hay bales.

Bucky was so busy thinking about the GMAT that he was caught completely off guard when he stepped out of the tack room and was immediately grabbed and hauled sideways before being pressed up against the wall by an amorous blond. Bucky laughed at Steve’s mischievous grin, “whoa cowboy.”

That made Steve laugh too even as he leaned in to slot his mouth over Bucky’s, “I missed you,” he murmured between kisses.

“It’s been a few hours,” Bucky chuckled even as he dropped the horse brush he had been looking for in the tack room.

Steve moved his hands from Bucky’s arms to his butt and thighs, hauling him up and pinning him back against the wall as Bucky settled his legs and arms around Steve with a breathless moan. Bucky hadn’t been a rough and tumble sort of guy, even when he’d slept with girls who seemed to want it rough. He’d always been very conscious of hurting them and it just wasn’t his thing. He’d picked a girl up once to make out with up against the wall in a pool house. She’d made an appreciative noise, but Bucky hadn’t been all that sure what the fuss was about.

But when Steve manhandled him, when he held Bucky’s wrists or pinned his hips or picked him up, Bucky saw literal stars behind his eyeballs. He could hear himself making the same sort of desperate, hungry, pitchy noise that girl had made. And he didn’t give a single flying fuck. Nothing about Bucky was small, but Steve handled him like it was nothing. It lit fires in Bucky’s body. Like now, he felt like the barn was going to burn around them he was so hot.

Steve was panting his name, having stopped kissing Bucky to trail his mouth down Bucky’s neck while his hands gripped almost bruises into the back of Bucky’s legs. Steve’s breath caught when Bucky’s fingers made it into his hair and Bucky felt him thrust his hips experimentally forward. They both moaned then, and Steve picked up the pace, thrusting his jeans-clad erection up against Bucky’s where he was pinned between Steve and the wall. It wasn’t the most comfortable way they’d fooled around but it made Bucky’s spine tingle. He tilted his hips against Steve for a better angle and commanded, “harder.”

Suddenly, Steve pulled back, body going unnaturally still and his head cocked to the side. Bucky heard it then too, an engine, a car engine, and tires on gravel. The car came to a stop, cut off, a door opened and closed. Finally, they heard a voice, “hey, anybody home,” came the cheerful call. Bucky thought the voice sounded familiar.

Sure enough, Steve’s eyes widened and he stepped back from Bucky so fast that reflexes were the only thing that kept Bucky from being a heap on the ground. Steve gave Bucky an inscrutable look before taking more hasty steps away from him and doing what was universally the once-over, no-we-weren’t-just-making-out – pants, shirts, mouth, hair – check. Bucky straightened and did the same thing.

Steve called out, “hey, Sam, we’re in here.”

Bucky _knew_ he recognized the voice. He picked the brush up and moved to Lady’s stall to begin what he had been about to do a few minutes ago and to give him a second to will his now painful hard-on down. Steve seemed to be trying to accomplish the same thing just as Sam came around the corner and into the barn. Steve smiled at him and moved to greet him, “how you doing man? What brings you our way?”

Sam grinned, giving Steve a bro hug complete with back-slapping, “well, I’m between jobs this week and so I thought I’d come see if you needed any help, one friend to another, no cost. Just hang out, you know?”

Steve nodded, “that’s really nice of you. I realized at the bar the other week we hadn’t spent time together in forever. Bucky and I were about to brush the horses, maybe ride the fences this afternoon, and you’re welcome to stay for dinner.”

Sam looked gleeful, “what’s for dinner? Please say meatloaf. Please.”

Steve laughed, “I think I got the ingredients.”

Sam practically whooped, “my favorite Steve Rogers dish!”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh which drew Sam’s attention down to Lady’s stall where he looked in at Bucky as he worked, “how you doing man? This guy treating you okay? Three square meals a day? Do you get to sleep in the house? He used to make me sleep in the barn.”

Bucky grinned when he heard Steve’s noise of protest, “that’s a bald face lie,” he joined Sam at the door to the stall his smile still a little uneasy now that Sam wasn’t paying attention to him and Bucky willed his brain to tell Steve telepathically that everything was okay.

Bucky tried to look as ‘aw shucks’ as possible before saying, “I’ve found living in the barn isn’t that bad, really, smells nicer than the frat house I share with like 20 other dudes at UCLA.”

Sam cackled and Steve’s face finally looked genuinely amused instead of worried, “I see what this is,” he crossed his arms with a grin, “you think you can gang up on me, but see if I make meatloaf tonight." 

Sam looked mournful, “no, I take it back.”

“Too late,” Steve turned, “I’m going to go get a brush and actually get some work done. Sam, you can brush Howler.”

Sam made a disparaging noise, “more punishment?”

Steve just laughed and Bucky joined in as Sam made a big show of cautiously approaching Howler’s stall. Bucky took pity on him, “I’ll switch with you. You take Lady.”

Sam looked dubious, “you sure?”

Bucky nodded, “Howler and I have an understanding.”

Sam looked at Steve who nodded and so Sam said, “be my guest,” and watched as Bucky walked over and leaned back against the stall door. He made a soft clicking sound until Howler approached the door and begin his sniff-and-lick routine. After a few minutes, Bucky was able to turn and slowly stroke Howler. A few minutes later he slipped into the stall, the brush already taking the place of his hand down Howler’s neck. And just like that, he was brushing Howler as calmly as he had been brushing Lady.

Bucky heard Sam whisper, “what the fuck?”

And he heard Steve say something back that sounded like, “tell me about it.”

Bucky smiled to himself and kept working. Steve went ahead and put the saddle and the reins and everything on Captain, calling Sam over, “why don’t you go ahead out and start riding. I know you miss the place. Go get reacquainted and I’ll join you as soon as I can get Howler to cooperate. Yeah?”

Bucky thought Sam looked grateful and he was on the horse and out of the barn like a shot, “catch me if you can Rogers.”

Steve laughed and walked out of the barn to watch Sam ride off. He waited, no doubt until he could see him go a reasonable distance before he came back in. Bucky stood patiently by Lady’s stall, waiting for Steve to come to him. It was obvious that something needed to be said after the abrupt end to their make-out session earlier. Bucky was fine but Steve clearly wasn’t and Bucky was going to let him set the tone of this conversation. Steve stood about 10 feet away from him looking towards the entrance to the barn.

Bucky could see that the set of his jaw meant business. Steve’s story the first night about he and Peggy getting the loan was something Bucky had thought of more than once as he got to know Steve. Peggy had been right. Once Steve got an idea of what he was gonna do or think, no one could talk him down.

“I’m still not _out_ here,” Steve said evenly, still not looking at Bucky.

“Didn’t assume you were,” Bucky said calmly.

“When I moved here I was already practically engaged to Peggy and then I was a married man and then I was a widower.”

“I get it,” and Bucky did get it.

Steve sighed, “it never seemed relevant here and, honestly, I hadn’t been out in high school for, well, for the same reason you thought I’d be mad you were bi.”

Bucky nodded, “I get it,” he repeated.

Steve still seemed determined not to look at him but his voice became more desperate, “Sam probably wouldn’t care, I should give him more credit, but I didn’t..." 

Bucky smiled and teased, “you didn’t want him to find out by catching you with your tongue down my throat.”

Steve snorted but the joke didn’t ease his tension, “I shouldn’t have reacted that way.”

Bucky shrugged, “it’s fine.”

“It’s not,” Steve said mulishly.

Bucky finally got irritated. He raised his voice.

“Steve, look at me!” Steve jerked his eyes to Bucky’s finally, having never heard Bucky yell in anger.

The second he had Steve’s attention though, he gentled his tone again, “I’m not mad at you,” Bucky rubbed a hand over his face, “this is your life, okay? I get that. I’m going to leave and you _live_ here. I understand that you don’t want the whole town knowing you’re fooling around with the summer help… who’s a dude." 

Steve looked positively fit to be tied, somewhere between guilty and indignant, “I’m not ashamed of what we’re doing.”

Bucky threw his hands up, “neither am I, but I’m not asking you to march in LA pride with me this year! Fuck, Steve, I haven’t even come out to my parents, remember. I’m not about to lecture you on telling people about us.”

Steve huffed out a breath, looked towards the door to the barn again; his entire body was still tense as Bucky approached him. But he let Bucky reach out to him, let him pull him into an embrace. Steve uncoiled enough to put his arms around Bucky’s waist and hug him close as Bucky hugged him tightly around the middle in return. 

“Remember what you told me,” Bucky said gently, “about how no one should get to determine when you come out.”

Bucky rested his head on Steve’s shoulder and waited Steve out. Eventually, Steve turned his head to rest his chin atop Bucky’s head with a long sigh. They stayed like that in the quiet heat of the barn until Steve finally moved to saddle-up Howler and follow Sam.

 

  

 

It had started in the last week of July, just a few weeks before Bucky’s departure. Steve had already been feeling maudlin if he was being honest with himself. He had done exactly what he’d told himself he wouldn’t do – gotten himself attached. It wasn’t hard to understand what was going on. He had connected with someone on an intimate level for the first time since losing Peggy and his emotions and brain signals and libido were all wonky.

It was nothing he couldn’t push through, and he didn’t regret what he’d started with Bucky, but Steve couldn’t pretend anymore it wasn’t going to hurt when Bucky left. So his emotions were already running a little high when Bucky told him over dinner that he didn’t think Lady was eating.

Steve was concerned of course, but he didn’t see any reason to assume the worst. He called Dr. Banner that next morning and set a house call for later in the week, which was the earliest available. Steve did as much self-assessment as he could, but couldn’t see anything wrong with Lady’s mouth, hooves, or coat. But Bucky had been right, she wasn’t touching food, barely drinking water, and she seemed reluctant to move. The day before Dr. Banner’s arrival she had refused to leave her stall and by the morning of his arrival she was laying in her stall, unable to get up.

Dr. Banner did not have good news. It was digestive. Which was not surprising in old horses, but also was the most common cause of death. If horses got colic or blockages or stopped eating, that signaled the end. At her age it could be just as damaging to try and move her to a hospital to be x-rayed and even if surgery was an option she might not make it through that. Plus, just the last-ditch options Dr. Banner was offering could cost anywhere from ten to twenty thousand dollars.

“I’ll level with you Steve,” Dr. Banner said, “this horse was old when you and Peggy rescued her. She’s had a great life here at the T&J. Anything I can do for her will be costly, might not work, and will only guarantee she lives at most another year or so.”

Steve bowed his head, took a deep breath. He looked into the stall at Lady who didn’t want to eat or drink or move and tried to think about what was best for her. He could do everything possible medically and it might save her for a little while, but would Lady want that or was she trying to tell Steve she was tired and it was her time to go? He couldn’t know for sure.

This was Peggy’s horse. What would Peggy have wanted? Peggy was practical and compassionate. She would have understood the options weren’t great. Most of all she would’ve wanted Lady to be pain-free and to leave this world with dignity. Above all, Peggy would’ve wanted to make sure that someone was with Lady in her final moments, that she knew she was loved. Steve had done that for his own wife. He could do it for her horse.

Steve sighed and looked up towards the roof of the barn overhead as he addressed Dr. Banner with a shaky voice, “you got everything with you that you need to do it?”

Dr. Banner nodded kindly and said, “yes, and I can call the right people to come get her after. You won’t have to worry about anything. I’ll just charge you for the visit, not the euthanizing. They’ll charge you for removal.”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut before opening them and setting his shoulders, “I appreciate that, Bruce.”

Steve’s chest was feeling tight and he knew he was close to some breaking point. Dr. Banner shuffled out to get what he needed and Bucky hovered by the stall door, watching with nervous eyes as Steve went back in Lady’s stall and slid down the wall to sit with the prone horse.

He expected Bucky to go back to the house, to leave Steve to his grief. Bucky hadn’t signed up to watch some guy he’d been stuck with for the summer sob in a horse stall. Steve hadn’t exactly planned to say goodbye to Lady this summer. He certainly hadn’t planned on it feeling like saying goodbye to another piece of Peggy.

Bucky surprised him by quietly asking Steve if he wanted Bucky to stay with him or if he needed to do this on his own.

Steve glanced up, miserable but stunned by Bucky all over again, “you didn’t sign up for this,” he blurted out.

Bucky nodded, his body language curved inward but his eyes steady on Steve, “can’t say I’ve ever experienced grief like you have. But I’ve got friends that have. They have bad days. Sometimes they need to be left alone. Sometimes they need to be distracted. Sometimes they just need company.”

He stepped into the stall towards Steve, “I’m willing to do whatever you need me to. I won’t crowd you. But don’t feel like you have to do this alone.”

Steve felt the tears well up in his eyes and he rubbed at them, his voice was thick when he said, “I’d appreciate if you’d sit with me.”

Dr. Banner came back in just as Bucky was settling beside Steve, their shoulders and thighs pressed together with the pretense of it being a tight fit in the stall with a prostrate horse.

Dr. Banner explained the process. Steve was familiar enough; they had to do this with an injured cow once. Peggy had refused point blank to have it shot, though Steve and Sam both offered.

Steve moved up onto his knees to be able to lean over Lady to put his hand on her neck and side while he spoke to her in a low voice. Bucky hung back, leaned up against the wall. He looked like he was giving Steve and the vet space but in reality, he was strategically placing himself behind Steve where Dr. Banner couldn’t see most of him. Steve understood when he felt Bucky’s hand settle warmly on Steve’s calf, not moving, not squeezing, just there. It was Bucky’s small way to remind Steve that he was here, that Steve wasn’t alone.

The thoughtful gesture caused Steve’s breath to stutter out and he took a few deep lungfuls of air to steady himself before he motioned for Dr. Banner to begin administering the injections – first to sedate and knock-out, then to actually euthanize. Lady would simply fall asleep, pain free, while Steve stroked her neck and shoulder. Steve kept his voice soothing and low as he spoke to Lady, even as the tears started leaking down his face.

Afterward, when Lady was gone and Banner had left, Bucky sat with Steve by Lady’s body as the sun started to sink. Bucky finally got up to start his evening duties a little early. Getting the bare minimum settled before they could go in for the evening. Steve stayed in the stall, too tired to move really. Tomorrow morning he would have to meet the crew that would come to take Lady away. For right now he just sat with her and listened to Bucky move around the barn.

Finally, Bucky came back into the stall, took Steve by the hand, and led him back up to the house. He helped Steve navigate up the porch, into the house, and onto a barstool. He took Steve’s boots off and then got leftovers from the fridge, heated them up, and put them in front of Steve.

He suggested Steve go shower and Steve nodded, moving to comply on autopilot. He didn’t consider anything past the next task he needed to perform. Finally, when he’d showered as Bucky suggested and brushed his teeth, he fell into bed, curling up and pulling the covers up around his chin. Something was missing though, the bed felt cold, the room felt empty.

It was like with Lady’s last breath she had breathed all the grief back into Steve. He knew it would pass. He understood logically that he was grieving a horse and it was reminding him of the times he had grieved other, greater things. He just had to ride it out.

He wanted suddenly to have Bucky here, but the thought of making it down the hallway to his room to retrieve him seemed un-navigable. Plus, Steve balked at the idea of asking something that intimate of Bucky, even more intimate then all the things they’d already experienced, all the lines they’d already crossed.

And Steve could see now that there had been lines and they’d both sailed over them. He sighed. It didn’t matter what Steve wanted right now anyway, Bucky never came to Steve on his own. Steve’s room seemed to be a barrier Bucky refused to cross into unless invited, no matter how many times Steve welcomed him into it.

As if Steve’s wishful thinking had conjured him, Steve felt the covers lift as Bucky slid into bed and curled up, warm and damp from his own shower and mostly naked, behind Steve. He spooned-up to Steve’s back, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist, tangling their legs together, and pressing his nose into the back of Steve’s neck.

Bucky didn’t say anything as Steve took a deep, shaky breath and hugged Bucky’s arm to his front. He wasn’t sure what sort of signals he’d given off to make Bucky break the one rule he’d seemed intent on not breaking, but he was so glad he thought about crying all over again. He was almost too tired to cry though so he just closed his eyes and tried to match his breathing to Bucky’s steady, deep breaths as they lay together in the dark.

 

 

 

Bucky stared down at the duffle on the bed, nearly packed and ready. He was leaving tomorrow. He got to go back to his friends and his frat house and his last semester; he should feel more excited. He _was_ excited about seeing his friends again at least. He wasn’t excited about classes and the GMAT and seeing his parents for a whole week... eh, maybe his Mom.

Bucky threw himself onto the bed and faced up to the truth finally in the privacy of his own head. He was gonna miss Steve. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted more time. He shouldn’t feel this way. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

This had been a mutually beneficial exchange. That’s all it had been. Bucky had gotten to have lots of amazing sex with someone he liked and respected and who liked and respected him, instead of hooking up with some dude at a party or a club or whatever. He felt more comfortable in his bisexuality, more grounded. He had Steve to thank for that.

And Steve? Steve had gotten to _be_ with someone again, to jump back into being intimate, to push through the rut of his grief without strings or complications or worrying about feelings. Bucky had given him that. He was happy to be the one who could give Steve that. It had been a win-win for both of them. And the entire point was that Bucky would leave and their lives would never intersect again.

So why didn’t he feel overjoyed at the prospect of leaving? Why wasn’t he busting at the seems to be back to Cali and tell Clint all about the hot af cowboy he’d spent the summer hooking up with? What was wrong with him?

Bucky looked towards the door of his bedroom. It was near lunchtime. Steve had insisted Bucky spend the morning packing while Steve got the chores done. He was supposed to meet Steve in the barn at noon for something. Steve had been vague about it.

Bucky pressed his fingers to his eyes, rubbed at his mouth, scratched his fingers through his hair, and finally hauled his sorry ass downstairs to put his boots on and head out to the barn. He looked down at his worn, stained Levi’s and his cotton shirt and his scuffed boots. It’d be back to skinny jeans and band tees and converses tomorrow.

He tried to take it all in on his walk down to the barn - the sun, the air, the smells, the sounds. Nomad came trotting up the dirt road from the barn to greet him, letting him stroke her fur in grazes with his fingers as they walked together.

When he got to the barn he came around the corner to where the door opened towards the paddock and found Steve waiting with the horses saddled up. Captain had saddlebags on and Steve was stroking Howler with a smile, a rare moment of affection between them as Bucky looked on with what was undoubtedly a stupid grin on his face.

Nomad gave an excited bark and Steve turned to look at Bucky, holding Howler’s reins out, “let’s ride.”

Bucky came forward to take the leather straps with something like awe and anxious excitement, “really?”

Steve nodded, moving to mount Captain’s back, “I suppose it’s time. Hopefully, Howler doesn’t make me regret it.”

Bucky let Howler sniff and lick at him, stroking his head and neck and sides before he even tried to get up in the saddle. Bucky calmly urged Howler forward towards where Steve and Captain waited by the entrance to the pastures. Howler trotted along, calm as you please, happy to let Bucky lead him. God, he loved this horse for loving him. Bucky felt his throat close up a little as he pondered never seeing him again. 

Instead of fighting back his emotions he just sort of let them roll through him, an aching wave churning from his eyes to his chest and down to his stomach. But he kept the tears in check. Once the fence was closed and Steve was back on Captain, Bucky turned Howler towards the open range that would take them all the way to the river and then over into the back pasture. He leaned forward, tightening his entire body and holding on for all he was worth before making a clicking noise at Howler and tapping his heels against the horse's side, “come on, buddy, show me what you got.”

Howler took off like a shot. Bucky laughed, eating the wind as the horse picked up speed. He heard Steve and Captain coming up behind them but he didn’t attempt to speed Howler up, it wasn’t a race against Steve, just a race against time. Every second now was a clock ticking down on his time here.

Bucky hadn’t known this was what he needed. But Steve had. Maybe it was because Steve had left this place once before, to strike out into the world, explore the big city, go to college. Maybe a big part of Steve had been happy to leave, to get out from underneath a small town mindset and be exactly who he was at NYU. 

But maybe he’d also known he was trading this majestic land for a concrete jungle. Maybe he’d also been sad to leave it all behind just a little. Maybe Steve understood that you could need to go and want to stay. Maybe Steve knew exactly what it felt like to have your heart in two places at once.

They slowed as they approached the river to plod across it before getting up to a canter, slower but still a good pace, towards the bottom of the mountain range. Steve eventually slowed down and Bucky pulled up on Howler’s reins. The horse only fought him a little on stopping. Steve seemed to have picked an arbitrary spot to stop but Bucky didn’t say anything.

Bucky spent some time petting Howler while Steve opened Captain’s saddlebags and started pulling things out. Suddenly there was a picnic blanket, water bottles, sandwiches and chip bags, and lastly, bottles of beer.

He looked at Bucky wryly as he opened the beers tilted away from him and let them spew, “I didn’t plan on you and Howler when I packed these.”

Bucky grinned until he felt his face start to hurt, “did you plan a picnic lunch?”

Bucky was sure that Steve was blushing as he rolled his eyes and looked down at the spread, “yeah, well, I also planned steaks for dinner. It’s your last day here. We gotta see ya off the right way. We like to show appreciation for our free help here at the T&J.”

Bucky knew that Steve was trying to say he’d have done this for anyone who showed up to help this summer, but Bucky couldn’t quite believe that was true. He’d let Steve believe he believed it though. After all, he wasn’t going to tell Steve that he was absolutely going to call this a date in his head.

Bucky threw himself down onto the blanket and Steve set down beside him and they let the horses graze and clinked their beer bottles together and dug in.

 

 

 

When they got back to the house the sun was already low in the sky. They’d been out riding most of the afternoon. They’d gotten sidetracked checking-in with the herd and then riding one of the fence lines. It was near to seven so Steve asked Bucky to get the horses settled while he went in and started dinner. Bucky breezed into the house about an hour later and yelled something about a shower on his way up. Steve just watched him go like a whirlwind and grinned even wider when it took him a bit longer than normal.

Steve was also in need of a shower and would be taking just a little longer than normal. He wanted to make sure that everything was perfect tonight. He knew that he didn’t have to. He knew that he shouldn’t put so much weight on Bucky’s last night here. But, he couldn’t seem to help it and so he was just going to go with it. 

When Bucky came back down in low-slung sweats and no shirt Steve almost decided to hell with dinner, but he forced himself to not touch or give in. He reminded himself that he had a plan. It involved dinner first. So, he showed Bucky what he needed to do to finish-up dinner and then Steve went for his own shower.

They ate steaks and mashed potatoes and salad. Steve uncorked a bottle of red wine and they talked about the usual things, sports and Bucky’s current favorite show that he’d even talked Steve into watching with him a few nights of the week on Netflix; they’d almost made it through season 2. Steve marveled that it felt a bit like a date, except that they were in sweatpants in Steve’s kitchen. And Bucky was leaving tomorrow.

Steve took a sip of wine and sighed a bit. Bucky looked up, his eyes bright but concerned as a strand of hair fell into his eyes and Steve realized he wanted badly to reach out and move it. Bucky seemed to find some sort of Steve’s inner turmoil in his eyes or maybe in his sigh because he asked, “you okay?”

Steve nodded, “sure.”

“Whatcha thinking about?” Bucky smiled as he bit into his last piece of steak.

Steve smiled back and wanted to say any number of things. _I’m thinking about selling the ranch to Sam if he wants it. I’m considering moving somewhere and starting over. I think it’s time. You’ve made me realize I need to move on. That I can move on. I don’t want you to leave. This stopped being just sex a while ago and I lost sight of that. I’m going to miss you. You’ve got this whole life to go live without me and I’m trying to wrap my head around why that bothers me._

“I just can’t believe that summer went by so quickly. The ranch isn’t gonna be the same without you. Howler is going to be intolerable,” Steve grinned and was proud of himself for settling on wording that was both true, heartfelt, and teasing without coming too close to some of the deeper thoughts he was trying to shove aside to just get through tonight and tomorrow morning.

Bucky laughed and got up to clear his plate and took Steve’s on the way to the sink, “I’m gonna miss this place, and Howler. It wasn’t a bad summer considering I was conscripted into involuntary labor by my father.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “I’m never gonna live that down am I?”

Bucky chuckled, “nope,” before saying in a tone that was meant to mock Steve’s voice, “are you here against your will?”

Steve stood up with a groan, moving to help Bucky clean the kitchen, “laugh it up. That’s fine. See if I give you any dessert.”

Bucky perked up a little and turned from where he was rinsing dishes and putting them in the dishwasher, “there’s dessert?”

Steve moved until he was in front of Bucky, pressing their bodies together and moving his hand up to run it through Bucky’s hair to tilt his head back enough so that Steve could lean in for a kiss. Bucky tensed just a minute before melting into the kiss, opening his mouth to Steve and molding his body to Steve’s taller frame. 

There was always that millisecond of hesitation as if every time Steve kissed him Bucky had to remind himself that Steve wanted him and that Bucky was allowed to want him back. Steve wasn’t sure if it was the age difference or Bucky’s inexperience with men. Which was just as preposterous, thinking Steve wouldn’t want to sleep with him because he’d never been with a man.

Steve still remembered the moment Bucky had stammered out his reason for leaving Steve standing at the sink. He wouldn’t have cared who Bucky had or hadn’t been with before, but then to know that he got to share that experience with Bucky, it had been, unexpectedly intoxicating. He and Peggy hadn’t been each other’s firsts and that hadn’t meant a good goddamn to Steve. He hadn’t really been prepared for what being with Bucky and knowing it was his first time would feel like.

Well, Steve hadn’t really considered a lot of things in all honesty. Like how magnetic his attraction to Bucky would be. He considered it even as he swept his tongue into Bucky’s mouth and Bucky pulled back to nibble at Steve’s bottom lip before diving back in. And, _there_ , that was a perfect example of one of the things he liked about Bucky, he didn’t do anything by halves. He was a lot like Steve in that he went all in. Steve had always had a weakness for people who were determined, vivacious, trying to carve out a place for themselves even when others were trying to make them fit molds they didn’t want to. Peggy had been like that.

On top of that, Bucky was hands down one of the most attractive guys Steve had ever met. He’d noticed the second Bucky’s converse’d-feet had carried him towards Steve that first day. His hair was artfully styled, his clothes just tight enough to show off what he knew he was working with, his blue-grey eyes intent and thoughtful in a way Steve wasn’t sure he remembered most of his peers being in college.

Steve could also see now the man that Bucky would grow into. The little bit of extra height, the sharpening of certain lines, the facial hair, and the shrewdness that a lot of adults carried that a lot of young adults lacked. Steve could easily see Bucky in a perfectly tailored suit, years from now, corner office. It was a future Bucky was going to make happen for himself and all Steve had to do was get out of the way. Tomorrow. Bucky would leave tomorrow. Tonight, though, tonight Steve would say goodbye.

He pulled back and looked down into Bucky’s slightly dazed eyes, “there _is_ dessert.”

Bucky smiled slowly, “that wasn’t it?”

Steve laughed and shook his head, “no, it’s upstairs. Let’s forget these dishes. It can wait till tomorrow.”

At the mention of tomorrow Bucky’s eyes cleared a little and his brown knitted together, but he let Steve pull him upstairs and into the master bedroom.

Steve stopped in front of the bed, pulling his shirt over his head and then pulling Bucky towards him and kissing him again, “so, do you remember asking me if there was anything I missed doing with guys?" 

Bucky peppered kisses down Steve’s throat, “uh-huh.”

“Well, I do actually have something I’d like to do,” Steve’s voice was already a little breathless and Bucky wasn’t helping with the hickey he was sucking into Steve’s skin above his left pec.

Bucky hummed in anticipation but didn’t say anything, waiting for Steve to continue, “I was hoping maybe you would fuck me.”

Bucky lifted his head to look at Steve so fast he nearly collided with Steve’s jaw and his voice was a whisper when he said, “what?”

“I’m not sure how to put it any more plainly without using hand gestures,” Steve said with clear amusement in his voice.

Bucky rolled his eyes, “yeah, okay, I get it, you don’t have to be vulgar about it. I just, I mean, are you sure?”

Steve nodded, “I am enthusiastically sure.”

Bucky pushed Steve back onto the bed with another eye roll, “well, in that case, I am enthusiastically sure that I want to do that for you… with you… to you?”

Steve laughed as he shimmied out of his pants before moving to lie back on the bed as Bucky dropped his own pants and climbed onto the bed with Steve after retrieving lube and a condom out of the bedside table. He looked at them thoughtfully for a minute, “you know, I meant to ask, where did these come from if you haven’t done this in a long time? I mean, no offense, and maybe I’m a little late to be concerned, but how old is this lube?”

Steve laughed even as he stretched and rolled his muscles to find a comfortable position spread eagle on the bed, “you know when we went into town that first week and I left you to load the groceries and told you I had to run to the pharmacy for a minute?”

Bucky frowned even more, “yeah, I thought you needed a prescription or something and you just put it in the toolbox of the truck because you were embarrassed or something. It wasn’t any of my business and so I didn’t ask. Didn’t think to ask really.”

Steve blushed a little, “well, it wasn’t a prescription, it was lube and condoms.”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open in shock as he knelt naked on his knees between Steve’s legs, “you didn’t even know I was into dudes… or you! You hadn’t even known me a week!”

Steve’s blush deepened and spread down his chest, Bucky’s hungry and still stunned gaze following its progress, “I was cautiously optimistic." 

“Cautiously optimistic,” Bucky repeated in a somewhat awed and amused voice.

Steve shrugged, “I mean, the condoms would have just gone to waste but I’d of used the lube on myself. Usually order it online, but I didn’t want to wait.”

Bucky’s pupils dilated at that, “You finger yourself?”

Steve laughed at Bucky’s breathlessness, “of course I do. Sometimes just for the sensation of that alone and sometimes in addition to jerking off.”

Bucky finally tossed the lube and condom to the side and lowered his body on top of Steve’s, “do tell.”

Steve reached up to grip Bucky’s shoulders and urge him down into a kiss, their tongues tangling immediately as their bodies pressed together, “how about I show you instead,” he whispered as he pulled back and watched as Bucky tried to process all the ways he could mean that, it was humorous; but he wasn’t trying to torture Bucky, at least, not on purpose. Steve wanted this just as badly.

Bucky got his knees up under him again, but he got distracted with his mouth on Steve’s bicep when he reached for the lube. Steve giggled when Bucky stuck his nose in his armpit for the hell of it, but let the younger man explore. Once Bucky had the lube in hand he followed a path of his own imagination across Steve’s shoulders and chest and stomach, sucking small marks into the soft skin as his other hand stroked repetitively along Steve’s right side from ribs to thigh. The attention made Steve’s nerves light up and his skin buzz.

Steve closed his eyes, his head thrown back, his breath hitched a few times before he was able to release the air and the tension in his body. He relaxed under the joy of letting Bucky’s gentle hands worship his body. Bucky was taking care of him, putting Steve’s needs above his own. There wasn’t really any other way to put it. He could have rushed to get his fingers in Steve, rushed to be inside Steve, to experience the pleasure of being inside another man’s body for the first time. And yet, he was taking his time. It made Steve glad his eyes were closed; they always seemed to give him away.

Bucky slicked up his fingers and started by doing exactly what Steve had done to him the first time they’d done this. He pressed the pad of a single finger against Steve’s entrance and rubbed in a soothing circle. Bucky pressed in his finger up to the knuckle, working his way up like he did for himself sometimes.

Steve could tell him he didn’t need as much prep; that Bucky didn’t have to take it as slow as Steve had for him. But, he didn’t. Slow was good for now. Steve worked to keep his hips still for now, and bit his bottom lip in concentration as small tremors racked his body. Bucky pushed more of his finger in as Steve’s breath stuttered out with a tiny moan.

“You okay,” Bucky asked before proceeding.

Steve nodded, “yeah, jus’ feels good. I almost forgot how much.”

Bucky pulled out and pushed in again while he ran his lips along Steve’s chest and abs, “you tell me when you want more.”

Steve’s hips twitched and he replied immediately, “I want more.”

Bucky obeyed and on the next slow, careful thrust in he added a finger. It burned, but that’s what Steve had wanted, he hissed, but also moved his hips into the motion of Bucky’s fingers. He waited a few minutes and asked for another. Bucky stretched his fingers out first before adding a third finger; then he lightly pressed his thumb into Steve’s perineum. Steve felt a jolt of pleasure shoot up his spine and he made a low whining noise, spreading his legs even more.

Bucky leaned in to kiss Steve and ended-up licking into his slack mouth as Steve rode the wave of pleasure that thrusting down onto Bucky’s fingers was causing him. He finally broke away to lube himself up. Once he was slicked up he looked down at Steve, blissed out on the bed, trying to regulate his breathing and moving restlessly because he felt empty.

Bucky started to ask, “do you want to be on your front or…”

Steve didn’t even let Bucky get the full question out, just shook his head and said, “no, like this. Just like this. Come here.”

Bucky did as he was told, lowering his upper body till he was on hands and knees and shuffling forward to better position himself. Steve threw one leg over his hip and the other Bucky put on his shoulder as he guided himself into Steve. Steve watched Bucky’s face as he worked himself into Steve’s body. He wanted to memorize every detail of this moment. _Their last moment_ , his brain unhelpfully supplied.

Steve was taking deep breaths and visibly relaxing the muscles in his body as he was able. He wanted Bucky to move a little faster, he could adjust to the stretch. Steve’s slipped his leg off Bucky’s shoulder and locked it with the other leg around Bucky’s hips, pulling him in even deeper.

Bucky groaned, his head dropping down to rest on Steve’s chest as he curled his body over Steve’s once he was in as deep as he could get. They were both panting, eyes glassy, sweat dripping as Steve finally released his death grip on the sheets to bring his hands up to cup Bucky’s face, pulling him down into a kiss.

Steve thrust his tongue into Bucky’s mouth, his fingers moving to stroke over his cheeks and into his hair. Bucky smiled into the kiss, humming in pleasure as Steve’s fingers continued their trail down the back of his scalp, across his shoulders, and down his back, letting the edges of his fingernails tease lightly at Bucky’s skin. Steve enjoyed the moan and shudder that earned him.

Bucky pulled his hips back experimentally and then slowly pushed back in. Steve’s eyes closed as he groaned, his hands returning to tangle in the sheets. God yes! He’d forgotten how much he loved this. The next slow pull out and steady push back in Steve lifted his hips to meet Bucky. Steve could see Bucky’s muscles were straining to let loose, but he held back, kept his rhythm slow; he pushed in as far as he could every time with a little grind at the end of each stroke. Steve wanted him to stop holding back. He wanted Bucky to let go. 

Steve tried to say as much but his brain couldn’t seem to find the words until Bucky leaned down to lick at Steve’s chest as he murmured, “tell me what you want. Is this okay?”

Steve swallowed and opened his eyes to look at Bucky, “faster.”

His legs tightened even more around Bucky as he continued, “harder.”

Bucky’s eyes sparkled, his mouth pulling into a grin, his hands fisting in the sheets on either side of Steve as he wedged his knees further underneath Steve’s thighs, lifting him now so that his hips were tilted up towards Bucky and changing the angle, making it easier for Bucky to thrust in fast, tight movements.

It lit Steve up inside; his entire body shuddered as he yelled Bucky’s name and, “yes! Fuck.”

“Language,” Bucky snarked back without missing a beat and Steve’s laugh turned into a moan.

Bucky worked to balance on one hand so he could bring his other down to grip Steve’s cock, but Steve immediately shook his head and tried to bat Bucky’s hand away, saying in a desperate voice, “no, no, don’t.”

Bucky moved his hand away, looking up to Steve’s face, probably wondering if he’d done something wrong so Steve just smiled and said, “I wanna come like this, just like this, just keep moving.”

Steve practically watched Bucky’s eyes dilate more at that. Bucky reached his now free hand up to trail his fingers over Steve’s lips, down his neck, and then back up again to grip his hair, pulling just enough to get Steve to tip his head back a little so that Bucky could suck a mark into his pulse point, could scrape his teeth over Steve’s jaw.

It was perfect. It was pressing all of Steve’s buttons. He bucked up at the sensation. Bucky pulled back to intertwine his still free hand with Steve’s, pressing it up near Steve’s head and down into the mattress before saying back, “okay, just like this then.”

Steve practically bowed off the bed when Bucky started really jackhammering into him. Steve finally came with a sob, his entire body trying to rise towards Bucky’s, his hips twitching, his release shooting across his own stomach and chest. He kept just enough clarity to remember to watch Bucky who bowed his head and ground down into the sensation of Steve’s body gripping him tight before finding his own release. The look of bliss and of simmering hunger on his face as he locked eyes with Steve was almost enough for Steve to forget all the reasons why he couldn’t keep Bucky here with him.

But he couldn’t. They couldn’t. So Steve just hugged Bucky into his body, arms and legs still curled around him and come drying in places it didn’t need to as they kissed and kissed and kissed. Eventually, Bucky went to Steve’s bathroom and came back with a washcloth and towel to take care of the mess as best they could. 

Once done, Steve curled up around Bucky to sleep, trying to touch as much of the younger man’s body with his own. Bucky didn’t say anything, but he pressed himself back into Steve like he couldn’t be close enough. As Steve drifted off to sleep it occurred to him that maybe he wasn’t the only one that had been trying to say goodbye the only way he knew how.

 

  

 

Bucky woke the next morning to Steve’s fingers trailing along his bare skin, tracing the dips and the muscle lines like he was memorizing a topography map. Bucky smiled and rolled so he could look up at where Steve was leaning over him, propped up on one elbow with his head resting in his palm and a warm smile on his face.

Bucky just smiled back up at him, “good morning.”

Steve just blinked a little as if Bucky’s voice had transported him out of some trance. His fingers had come to a stop and his entire hand was now splayed over Bucky’s ribs, his thumb resting next to Bucky’s nipple.

“Good morning,” Steve said softly as he moved to lean over into Bucky’s space and press their mouths together. 

For a minute it was just a press of lips, neither one of them moving or asking for more, just staying connected. But then Steve breathed through his nose and suddenly he was kissing Bucky hard, ferociously, his body pressing down on Bucky’s where they touched, his tongue pressing into Bucky’s mouth. 

Steve sighed, the sound incongruous with the way he seemed to be devouring everything Bucky was offering him. Then, as if a light bulb turned on in the front of Bucky’s mind, he knew suddenly that Steve is saying goodbye, the only way he knew how, the only way they could because this was never supposed to be about feelings. But Bucky certainly had some feelings about never seeing Steve again, and maybe, if the way Steve’s fingers were leaving bruises on his side were any indication, maybe Steve had just a few feelings too.

Not that it mattered. Not that knowing any of that mattered, and maybe that’s what frustrated Bucky the most, and suddenly he was rising up, pushing at Steve to get closer, to take more, to give more; he pulled at Steve’s hair, he licked into his mouth, he nibbled at his lips. Bucky tried to tell Steve as loudly as Steve was telling him just how much he would miss him.

And then suddenly Steve pulled away, rolled off and up to sit on the side of the bed with his back to Bucky, chest heaving. He didn’t say anything and Bucky knew that this was the moment. He had to move, he had to leave the room, go shower, pack the car, and the minute he left this room the bubble would break, they would crash back to earth.

He threw the covers off and moved to his hands and knees up behind Steve, letting him know he was there with a brush of fingertips down his spine and Steve still didn’t speak but he curved his back ever so slightly into the touch. Bucky followed his fingers with his lips, moving his mouth back up until he could kiss the place where Steve’s hairline started on the back of his neck. Once he finished he swallowed, took a deep breath, and rolled backward off the bed onto his feet, walking out of the room towards his own without looking back.

Bucky showered in a daze, hauled his stuff downstairs and into the car. Steve handed him coffee on his trip back up to make sure he got everything, no kiss and barely a smile, but neither of them seemed to feel much like faking it. Bucky gulped the coffee down while he clambered back down the steps. It was time to go.

Steve looked at him from the sink, his arms crossed and his face unreadable, “you got everything?”

Bucky nodded and walked over to hand the empty coffee cup back to Steve, “I think so, Dad’s already changed plans on me, he wants me to meet them in Tahoe on my way back to LA. I’ll probably just drive straight through. Get there late tonight.”

Steve nodded, “I’ll walk you to the car.”

Bucky couldn’t find a reason to object so he just headed for the car. The morning sun was warm in the cool air and he could see Steve’s shadow stretching out past him as he followed Bucky to the Landrover. He turned when he got to the hood of the car and Steve stopped in front of him. When Bucky looked up, Steve was framed by the sun looking more radiant than ever, but with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Thank you for all the help this summer,” he said.

It was a song and dance that Bucky knew they had to do for their own sanity so he smiled back and said, “sure, it was, well, I can honestly say it was great, but, to save face I will tell all of my friends I hated it.”

Steve actually barked out a laugh at that and he stepped forward, bringing his arms around Bucky in a firm hug that Bucky wanted to melt into. He gripped Steve’s shirt in his fists and pressed his face into the material and breathed deep without an ounce of shame.

Finally, Steve pulled back, so Bucky did too. Steve’s eyes were full of words and thoughts and feelings that Bucky couldn’t hope to untangle, just as he knew his face must be. Bucky wanted to ask to stay and knew he couldn’t. He wanted Steve to ask him to stay and knew he wouldn’t. He wanted this moment to freeze. He wanted time to move around them while Bucky stayed here, warm in Steve’s shadow.

“Go on,” Steve said, “you gotta get on the road or you’ll be even later getting into Tahoe then you thought.”

Bucky knew his own mouth was twisted in some parody of a smile and he nodded, “yeah, don’t want to be late for all those responsibilities I’ve got waiting for me.”

He finally made his feet move towards the car. He got to the door, got in, got the car started, pulled away, pointed the car down the long driveway. One step at a time, Bucky thought. He indulged himself with one long, last look in the review mirror of Steve waving in a swirl of dust. Bucky thought maybe it was wishful thinking Steve’s expression looked wrecked; that was just Bucky’s heart needing to not feel so alone in its aching.

 

 

 

_4 Years Later_

“Why are we here again? In Brooklyn? On a Tuesday night?” Bucky sat down his champagne glass on a passing waiters tray, he’d had two and that was enough since he was interacting with clients.

Natasha rolled her eyes, “First of all, you’re _from_ Brooklyn, _and_ because people who need upscale marketing services want upscale art, and as the newest hires at Stark Communications, you and I drew the short stick to come schmooze.”

Bucky scoffed, “I’m pretty sure that Stark literally said, ‘you’re young and hot, now go make me money’.”

Natasha shrugged as they moved from painting to painting, “being beautiful draws people in, it doesn’t seal the deal. He wouldn’t have sent us if he didn’t also think we had what it took to attract new clients.”

“He wouldn’t have _hired_ us if he didn’t think that,” Bucky let his eyes scan over the crowd. The gallery owner was a current client, so he knew why they were here and he’d done a fantastic job ushering them around as people came in towards the beginning of the event.

The gallery had filled quickly though, apparently one of the artists on display tonight was a big deal, local, up-and-coming, Bucky hadn’t looked that far into it. Natasha was gazing studiously at a painting and Bucky let his mind wander.

“I think we can leave soon,” she said, “I honestly have no idea what qualifies as art sometimes. If I had known being in the world of high-end marketing firms was going to involve all this I’d have minored in Art History instead of Russian.”

Bucky sighed, “well I minored in Literature, so, there.”

Natasha looked askance at him, “why? 

Bucky shrugged, “to piss off my Dad.”

She smiled, “charming. How is he, by the way?”

Bucky groaned. He and Nat had been friends since grad school and they’d both worked their asses off to get where they were, junior account managers at one of the world’s leading ad agencies – Stark Communications was owned and run by mogul Tony Stark and was headquartered in Uptown Manhattan.

It was actually a job Bucky enjoyed immensely. He still wished he was doing more to help people, but he was hoping once he worked his way up in the firm he could convince Stark to let him take non-profit clients for less money, companies that were doing important work but couldn’t afford exposure. That would be nice. Bucky could spin that it would look excellent on the company’s corporate ethics webpage.

“I love what I do, Nat, you know I do,” he said, “but the fact that my father likes what I do makes me like it a little less. And I know I’m 25 and I should be above that level of petty, but I’m really not.”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, “I had to sit through another dinner party this weekend where he went on and on about my job and my career trajectory and owning my own ad firm one day… he doesn’t even know if I _want_ to do that. It doesn’t even matter. I thought if I made it through grad school and got a good job, he’d get off my back, but I don’t think he ever will.”

Natasha moved them to the next painting and made a sort of humming noise in sympathy, “well, what do you say we get out of here? I want to go home and watch HGTV and drink some vodka. Plus, I’m tired of looking at,” she gestured to the painting, “fields of wheat, and pretending I understand some deeper meaning behind it.”

Bucky turned to look at the painting she was waving at; he hadn’t really looked too closely at any of them. His breath caught in his throat and he sort of felt the odd sensation that his vision was narrowing. He swayed forward a little to get a better look. It was… it was very familiar looking. An open range. Blue sky. Mountains in the distance. A fence line. His heart ached all of a sudden and he wanted to be anywhere but here. This gallery. This city. This state. This life. It had been a while since he’d felt the longing he was feeling now. He’d been dodging it for 4 fucking years.

“Bucky?” Natasha said his name liked she’d said it before, “are you okay?”

“It’s not wheat." 

Natasha raised one perfect eyebrow at him, “excuse me?”

Bucky felt hot and cold at the same time, but he calmly said, “you called it a field of wheat and it’s not, that’s hay.”

Natasha looked amused, “and how do you know that?”

A voice cut in from behind them, “because any decent cowboy knows the difference between wheat and hay.”

Bucky felt like he was turning around in slow motion. He knew that voice. He just thought he’d never hear it again. Bucky’s eyes met bright blue ones and standing not 5 feet from them like a heat mirage straight out of Bucky’s brain was Steve Rogers.

Bucky just gawked and only felt slightly better when Steve seemed incapable of doing anything but staring back at him, like they were trapped in each others gaze with no way out. Steve looked good. He was wearing a suit. Bucky had never seen him look so formal. His hair was done somehow, he had a beard, and damn did it work for him; he looked like he hadn’t aged a day since Bucky’d last seen him, standing in a review mirror.

Bucky knew he looked a little different and he could see Steve’s eyes assessing. The muscle mass he’d built in grad school, trying to work out the intense amount of stress his MBA program had put on him. The longer hair and 5 o’clock shadow that he thought made him look edgier. Steve gave him a once over that Bucky wanted to roll around in like a warm blanket. Every nerve in his body seemed to be on fire.

Natasha cleared her throat. Bucky had no idea how long they’d been standing like that. She held her hand out to Steve, “Natasha Romanov, nice to meet you…”

“Steve, Steve Rogers,” Steve reached out to shake her hand and then nodded to the painting behind them, “artist.”

Bucky finally found his voice, “artist?”

Steve nodded, his gaze suddenly bashful, “this is my first major gallery showing.”

“Congratulations,” Natasha murmured just as Bucky said with a sudden realization, “you’re the local, up and coming artist? You live here? But…” Bucky turned back to gaze at the painting.

Steve cleared his throat behind him, “I, uh, sold the ranch to Sam a few years ago. Long story.”

Bucky turned back to look at Steve with a sharp gaze, “I don’t think it is.”

Steve’s expression held a wealth of barely contained emotion, “no, it’s definitely a long story, you just know most of it already.”

Bucky looked away because he just couldn’t look at Steve right now, his body felt like he was spiraling, sliding sideways, everything on fire suddenly and he couldn’t find the floor or an exit door. Natasha was watching the entire thing with shrewd eyes.

Bucky looked back at the painting and just as he was trying to formulate what to say to Steve a fourth person joined their group, the gallery owner. His smile was professional and pleasant, and his tone told Bucky that he had no idea he’d walked into a powder keg of history and feelings.

“I see you’re interested in this particular painting, Mr. Barnes; an excellent piece for your home or office if I may say,” he gestured to Steve, “and I also see that you’ve met the artist. Steve is, if I may be so bold to say, definitely going places in the art world.”

No one said anything and for the first time the gallery owner seemed to sense the odd tension. But, like any good salesman, he plowed through, “this particular piece is called _That Summer_. Which, I’ve always thought was an interesting choice. Not just summer, but _that_ summer, as if the scene depicted in the painting is taking place at a specific point in time. I’m sure Steve would be happy to explain to you his unique choice regarding that.”

Bucky’s voice was like shards of glass when he simply said, “there’s no need for that." 

Steve’s face was flushed behind his beard and high on his cheeks, the rosy color Bucky knew intimately would be spreading down his neck and chest where the suit was hiding it. He looked like he wanted to say something and he swallowed a few times before he seemed to give up.

The gallery owner now had a small frown on his face, clearly not understanding what was happening in front of him. Meanwhile, Bucky opened his mouth and blurted out the only thing he thought he could safely say, the only thing he really wanted to say to end the stifling pressure in the bubble the four of them had created around this fucking painting.

“I’ll take it!” Bucky said resolutely.

Almost immediately Steve got that stubborn, set look to his jaw that Bucky had missed so much. He wanted to press his mouth to the underside of it and… wow, okay, he needed to take a step back. _Breathe Bucky, just breathe._

“You don’t need to buy a painting from me. That’s...” Steve started and then realized how absurd it would sound to the gallery owner that Steve was trying to talk someone out of purchasing one of his paintings.

Natasha held out her hand and Bucky handed over his wallet. She turned to the gallery owner and gestured for them to move towards the desk in the far corner, “I will be helping Mr. Barnes facilitate this purchase.”

God damned but he loved Natasha. This was why there were friends. She was quick on the uptake and she was a maverick at obfuscation. The gallery owner didn’t even question the situation. Bucky definitely owed her a drink. No, he thought, he owed her an entire bottle of very good vodka… and one hell of an explanation. 

Once it was just the two of them Steve stepped even closer, his voice lower, “seriously, you don’t have to buy this painting, okay? 

Bucky shook his head and waved his hand at the painting in question and just gave Steve a look, “No one deserves to own this painting more than me and you know it.”

Steve’s mouth dropped open as Bucky continued, “do you know how many times in the last 4 years I’ve closed my eyes and pictured _that_ ,” Bucky pointed at the painting.

Bucky sighed, _yeah, way to take a step back Barnes, you really held it to-fucking-gether_ , “so, yes, I’m buying this painting.”

Steve looked like he wanted to say a lot of things that Bucky wasn’t sure he could hear right now but, “so you got your dream job then? MBA? Corner office?” was what came out of his mouth.

Bucky laughed, “well, corner office is pushing it, but, yeah, I’m on my way I suppose. How did you…”

Steve shrugged and looked away, “overheard part of your conversation with your… friend?”

Bucky smiled at Steve’s lack of subtlety and felt the butterflies in his stomach take flight at the little bit of hope that wanted to spring free at Steve’s possible interest in his love life.

“Yes, friend, and also co-worker,” Bucky said with a small smile.

Natasha came back with Bucky’s wallet and the news that the painting would be delivered the following week to his apartment. She then made some excuses, said a brief but polite goodbye, and then sashayed out the door without so much as a bye-your-leave for Bucky. If Natasha weren’t so good at reading situations Bucky would accuse her of friend abandonment. As it was, he probably needed to add flowers and chocolates to the vodka.

Once Natasha was out of sight Steve blinked, turning suddenly to look at Bucky like he was just now realizing they were alone. Well, alone in a room full of people. Bucky took a deep breath and then took a leap, “would you like to grab a drink sometime?”

Steve smiled, low and warm and said, “how about coffee right now? I know a place around the corner. Just let me tell Coulson I’m leaving.”

Bucky let out the breath he’d been holding and just said, “lead the way.”

As it turned out, the place Steve knew about ended up being a late night diner literally yards away from the gallery. It was almost deserted, as you would expect a diner to be on a Tuesday in Brooklyn at 9 o’clock at night.

They slid into a booth opposite one another and busied themselves with ordering coffee and sneaking glances at one another while pretending to look at the menu before both deciding they weren’t in the mood for food.

This was it, Bucky thought, the moment where they actually had to talk. He still couldn’t really believe that Steve was in front of him, in a suit, in New York City. It seemed like a realistic fever dream. Bucky had once had weekly dreams of Steve. He hadn’t had one in a very long time.

Bucky loosened his tie and watched Steve watch his fingers undo the first few buttons of his shirt. Steve did the same and watching his fingers tremble ever so slightly gave Bucky the courage to speak up, “so, you sold the ranch to Sam. What about Nomad, Howler, Captain?”

Steve grinned, “all part of the deal. That’s one of the main reasons I sold to Sam, I knew he’d take the lot and he’d keep them, take care of them. I knew I’d be leaving them in good hands.”

Bucky nodded, “makes sense. You miss them?”

“Everyday,” Steve sighed out, “but I knew it was for the best. I had been putting it off for a long time… after Peggy. And I realized eventually that it was time to do what she’d asked me to do, which was move on.”

Bucky was proud of himself that his voice didn’t waver when he said, “and you realized that when?”

Steve looked him dead in the eye, “about 4 years ago.”

Bucky took a gulp of coffee and looked out the window, “so… you got back into art?”

Steve nodded, taking a sip of his own coffee, “well, I reached out to some NYU alumni and ex-professors about design jobs. I landed some freelance work once I got my portfolio together. I was… rusty. The art world changes, you know, just like any other industry, and I’d been out for a while. But, I have a great freelance clientele now and, as you saw, I’m finally starting to make some headway as a gallery artist.”

“And you live in Brooklyn?” Bucky smiled at the thought of Steve going back to the studio-apartment-fire-escape-living he’d talked about living with Peggy so fondly.

Steve smiled too as if he could read Bucky’s thoughts, “it’s a little nicer than what I had in college, but, yes, I have an apartment in Brooklyn. It feels, good. Feels right. I miss the ranch, of course, but…”

“But you’re happy,” Bucky said, and it wasn’t a question.

Steve answered anyway, “I am.”

“Are you?” Steve tilted his head, his expression said he was waiting to try and gauge the truthfulness of Bucky’s reaction.

Thankfully, Bucky didn’t have to lie, “I am. I have a little place in Manhattan, in The Village, that I pay way too much for. I love my job. I think it’s going to get me where I want to go. I volunteer a little here and there. My Dad’s still a pain, but you know how that goes,” Steve smiled at that.

Bucky bit his lip before continuing, “I… came out to my parents after college. Brought a guy home in grad school and we dated for… a while… they took it really well. My Mom started including LGBTQ non-profits in her charity work.”

Bucky shrugged, “I dated a girl for a few months the last year of my MBA program and I think that confused them. I mean, they listened to my speech about being bisexual, but I don’t think they really understood. I think they sort of internalized this narrative that I was gay in order to accept it and so when I turned around and dated a girl, it threw them. Dad still struggles sometimes. But, honestly, most of the time, I think that he doesn’t give a fuck about my love life as long as he can brag about my career to all his friends.”

Bucky realized he was ranting and stopped talking, watching Steve watch him as they fell into an almost comfortable silence. They drank their coffee and they both thanked the waitress when she came to top them off.

Finally, Bucky just said, “what about you?”

Somehow Steve knew exactly what he was asking, “I’ve dated on and off for the past few years. Even made it almost a year with the last one. It ended about 6 months ago. He wanted to move in together and I wasn’t ready and he couldn’t understand my reluctance, but, then neither could I, which made it even harder to try and explain… he broke it off.”

Bucky frowned, “I’m sorry to hear that.” He wasn’t.

Steve shrugged, running a hand through his hair and looking over at the counter where their waitress was wiping down the already wiped-down surfaces with a bored look on her face, “I don’t know. I guess I just keep expecting it to be easy, like I remember it being with Peggy. Which, I guess isn’t fair; I think my mind just remembers the easy times. I know not all of it was easy. But, then, I think, well, it was easy between us too…”

Bucky sucked in a sharp breath through his nose and Steve’s head snapped up as if only just realizing what he’d said. They gazed wide-eyed at one another for what seemed like endless moments before they both looked away almost simultaneously.

Bucky gripped the coffee cup in his hands and made himself say the words he knew his heart needed to say, even if this was it, even if saying it didn’t bring him any closer to Steve then sitting across from him at this booth. He’d wanted to say a version of what his mouth was aching to speak for 4 years and he was going to take his chance despite the fear and the embarrassment and the stupid hope clogging his lungs.

Bucky cleared his throat and opened his mouth, “I used to tell myself that I made-up all these feelings I carried around with me that summer, that we were isolated out there in the middle of nowhere, that we both had burdens we were carrying, and that we gave those over to each other and it created… false intimacy. That’s what my therapist called it.”

Steve’s voice was a whisper, “You went to therapy?”

Bucky nodded, “I did a lot of things to try and… not feel how I felt when I left that day.”

Steve looked down at the table, “I didn’t try and that didn’t really work either. I told myself I was moving here for a fresh start, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me feel better knowing I was at least closer to you somehow.”

“How did you know I was back in New York?” Bucky asked curiously.

“I didn’t,” Steve took a sip of coffee and looked out the windows of the diner again at people passing on the sidewalk, “I have cared deeply for two people in my life and Brooklyn gave me both of them in a way. I thought this would be a good place to start if I needed to find myself again.”

Bucky felt his breath catch, could taste that hope again at the back of his throat, “cared deeply?”

Steve shrugged, looking at Bucky finally like he was trying to stare into his soul, “I don’t really do casual, never have. I knew that when I kissed you that first night and I convinced myself that because of that I put more emphasis on what there was between us. I mean, I loved Peggy for so long and then I mourned her for so long… which was exactly what she didn’t want. I just, I couldn’t accept that the first person I found a connection with after her, that it was _real_.”

Steve looked back down at his cup of coffee, “maybe you weren’t the only one worried about false intimacy. I just didn’t know to call it that.”

Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat, “I thought my therapist was full of shit.”

Steve laughed, deep and rich and so much like Bucky remembered that Bucky’s body interpreted the sound as a touch that made him shiver. Steve scratched at his beard, “yeah, I don’t think false intimacy lasts 4 years after goodbye.”

Bucky shrugged, “I almost went back. After grad school. But, I just, I couldn’t face it.”

Steve frowned, “face what?”

Bucky looked up at Steve with a sigh, “what your life looked like without me.”

Steve’s breath caught and Bucky pushed on, “the only thing that made me feel better that first year was to think of you happy. To think that you’d moved on in all the ways you’d needed to. And even though it wasn’t with me, I wanted that for you. But I couldn’t face seeing it.”

Steve moved his coffee cup aside and rubbed at his eyes, “I didn’t move on. Well, I suppose I did, but not from you or that summer. And here we are. In a diner. In Brooklyn.”

Bucky smirked, “and you’re some hot-shot, hipster artist.”

Steve scoffed, “and you’re a suit." 

Bucky laughed, setting his mug aside as well and loosening his tie more, “I suppose.”

Steve took a deep breath and laid his arm down on the table, palm up before saying, “I live a few blocks from here.”

Bucky looked into Steve’s eyes, his bottom lip between his teeth and he knew they were both thinking of their first night together, where Steve had held out his hand and asked Bucky to take it if he wanted to give them another try after the disastrous kitchen sink episode.

Bucky slipped his hand into Steve’s, as easy as breathing, and with some bills hastily thrown onto the table they were out the door and down the block. Bucky let Steve lead, while he willed his body and his brain and his heart to calm down. By the time they made it into Steve’s entryway and got the front door shut Bucky was keyed up and hard as a rock.

Before Bucky could even get a full breath in he was being shoved back against a wall. Rough hands caught him under the thighs and lifted until he was pinned between Steve and the wall with his arms and legs locked around the blonde. It made his heart thud and his stomach swoop.

The apartment was dark and Steve hadn’t attempted to turn on a light. He seemed more interested in sucking Bucky’s soul out through his mouth, which was fine, honestly. Bucky’s hands were gripped in the back of Steve’s shirt and he nipped Steve’s bottom lip every time they broke apart for air. Finally, Bucky let his head fall back to pull in a rough breath and Steve immediately begin sucking biting kisses into his neck.

He could feel Steve’s body, hot up against his, his hands gripping Bucky’s ass, and his shaky breathes against the sensitive skin of Bucky’s neck. Suddenly, it was all too much in the best way possible and Bucky could feel the tears welling up in his eyes because it was so good, it had always been so good. And he’d thought he’d never get to have this again. Worse, he’d convinced himself it hadn’t been this good, that he’d been young and new to sex with men and that everything he’d experienced with Steve had just been good-new. But, it hadn’t been. It had been good period, because it had been _them_.

Bucky realized he was chanting Steve’s name, peppering kisses all over his face. He knew the moment Steve felt the tear tracks smear across his own face, because he gripped Bucky tighter and just whispered, “Buck, hey, it’s okay,” in that calm, steady way he had about him.

The nickname that he’d only ever heard from Steve’s lips made it worse and he felt a sob catch in his throat, his entire body flinching at the task of keeping the noise inside. Bucky felt himself being carried somewhere, the bedroom it turned out, and laid down on the bed. The soft glow of a lamp appeared with a clicking noise and there was Steve, above him, looking mildly concerned, but also like he might have a suspicious brightness in his own eyes.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve leaned over him, pressing butterfly kisses all over his face and neck until Bucky giggled, “it’s okay, I’m here,” Steve murmured as Bucky took a deep, shuddering breath. 

Steve settled between Bucky’s legs on the bed, so that their stomachs and hips and thighs were all touching in some way. The desire was still there, but it was a low burning flame now that they were in bed, looking at one another, Steve propped on his forearms, his entire body caging Bucky in, making him feel safe.

“I’m afraid this is a dream,” Bucky whispered.

“Me too,” Steve whispered back.

Bucky smiled at him and ran his fingers through Steve’s hair, urging him down into a kiss, more gentle than the ones in the hallway and much more about relearning each other's mouths. Now that they were horizontal and Steve didn’t have the extra few inches on Bucky, it was clear that Bucky’s final stage of growth over the last few years, combined with his time in the gym, had put him on much more even footing with Steve’s bulk and strength.

They’d lost the suit jackets somewhere in the hallway, but they were both still fully clothed and that needed to change immediately. He nipped at Steve’s bottom lip before pulling back to say so, “there needs to be less clothing, like now.”

Steve chuckled, but moved up and off, reaching out a hand to pull Bucky up with him so they could start stripping. Now that the suggestion had been made they were both racing to get down to skin. Bucky stepped out of his pants and boxers to look up at Steve standing just a few feet away, naked and looking at Bucky. Steve reached out, fingers tracing the larger, more defined muscles in Bucky’s arms and shoulders and chest. Steve’s palms slid down the sides of Bucky’s ribs and down around to the small of his back and then down even further to squeeze his ass.

Bucky groaned, his own hands skimming up Steve’s arms and to his biceps. Steve’s body hadn’t changed at all. He must be a serious gym-goer to keep all the bulk that life on the ranch had blessed him with. Bucky stepped even closer to Steve, aligning their bodies together, half-hard cocks firming up even more as their skin met for the first time in too long.

Steve’s hands traveled up Bucky’s back, tangling in his long hair and pulling back so Bucky had to arch his neck. Steve took full advantage, diving in with his tongue and teeth as Bucky whimpered.

“I like the hair,” Steve’s voice was deep, a moan escaping him like he wasn’t the one trying to take Bucky apart with his mouth.

Bucky gasped as Steve’s fingers clenched and pulled just a little harder, “this wasn’t what I had in mind when I grew it out,” and then, “ _more_.”

Steve chuckled but pulled back, “you always were a sucker for being pushed around.”

Bucky walked backward towards the bed, crawling onto it and laying out with his legs open and his arms behind his head, “only by you.”

Steve looked radiant as he followed Bucky onto the bed and knelt between Bucky’s thighs. Or it could just be the aura of Bucky’s memory glowing around Steve, like a halo of the feelings he’d kept bottled inside. They were bursting to life inside of him with such exuberance that Bucky wouldn’t be surprised if he were glowing too.

Steve took the lube and slicked his fingers up before pressing the pad of his thumb against Bucky’s hole, rubbing until the motion relaxed the muscle and then sliding one finger in up to the knuckle and stopping.

Bucky made an impatient noise, rolling his hips down, “come on, Steve. It’s not my first time anymore. Harder. Faster.”

“Maybe I’m doing this for me,” and Steve’s eyes were molten, electric blue when he looked at Bucky, slowly lowering his head to kiss Bucky’s left knee. Steve moved up to his thigh and then skipped over his groin to kiss back down the other leg and he thrust the one finger in further.

Bucky could swear he heard thunder, the sense memory of having Steve like this the first time was so strong now, pushing forward from the back of his mind like Bucky hadn’t thought about it every day for weeks and months his senior year of college.

Steve took pity on him, speeding up the process with two fingers and then three when Bucky asked for them. Or maybe he was also impatient; Bucky watched Steve’s muscles flex and twitch as he focused on the task of getting Bucky’s body ready for him. Steve had found his prostate almost immediately and then had just as immediately backed off that spot, trying to string Bucky along until Steve was inside him. They were both so keyed-up it wasn’t going to take much, not when just being in Steve’s presence again made Bucky’s soul want to vibrate out of his body.

“That’s good. I’m good,” Bucky was writhing and twisting and sitting-up, getting Steve to withdraw his hand and sit back. Steve leaned his upper body forward though to press his lips to Bucky’s in a chaste kiss, and Bucky pulled back to say, “sit up against the headboard in the pillows. Get comfortable.”

Steve groaned and moved to do as told, grabbing the condom and then arranging himself as Bucky had instructed. They’d never done it this way. And tonight was just as about continuing their story, as it was a retelling of the memories they had both carried for 4 years. Bucky had Steve again, here and real and right in front of him, but he also wanted Steve in a new way. He wanted new memories. In case, just in case, they had to last him more years.

He crawled up into Steve’s lap, throwing a leg over and knee-shuffling forward until Bucky’s hips were over Steve’s and he could run his hands along Steve’s torso where he was lying propped against the pillows.

Bucky smirked down at Steve; he didn’t have to be patient when he was in charge. He rose up onto his knees, reaching back to guide Steve into him, working the head in slowly and then sinking down at a steady pace until he was fully seated. Bucky had his lower lip gripped between his teeth, his eyes closed, his breath panting in and out. Steve was inside him, finally, again. Bucky felt like the air around them was charged.

He opened his eyes to look down at Steve and felt a pulse of heat up his spine. Steve had his head thrown back, eyes closed, as if watching Bucky sink down onto his cock would have been too much. Steve’s arms were thrown out to the side and his hands twisted in the sheets like he was fighting back the need to grip and touch and move Bucky.

Bucky leaned forward, pressing his lips to Steve’s throat with one hand gripping the other man’s bicep to ground him and with the other he gripped Steve’s hair just like Steve had done to him. Bucky started to suck and mark right over Steve’s pulse point as he rose up a few inches and then back down.

 

The arm that Bucky didn’t have a grip on for balance moved and suddenly Steve’s hand was a vice on Bucky’s hip, fingers pressing in a way that made Bucky ache for the bruises later that he’d be able to see. Proof of what they had done. Steve was making punched out noises, groans and ah, ah, ahs that Bucky licked out of his mouth.

When Bucky finally pulled back to sit up and get to business, Steve came off the bed with him, sitting up to wrap his arms around Bucky’s waist and looking up at him even as he brought his mouth to Bucky’s chest with open mouth kisses and teasing licks to his nipples.

The room was an inferno of heat and sex, of their noises and scents, and Steve’s eyes locked on Bucky’s as he rocked his hips, rising up and sinking back down onto Steve with increasing speed and intensity. Bucky pushed Steve back into the pillows, pressing his hands to Steve’s beautiful pecs, god Bucky had missed them, and started to ride him in earnest, chasing his pleasure and wringing increasingly desperate noises out of Steve.

Steve’s hands were all over him, Bucky’s hips, thighs, ass, stomach, everywhere Steve could reach. When Bucky leaned back to change the angle Steve got a hand around Bucky’s cock and started pumping in time to his thrusts up into Bucky as they rode the wave together.

“Steve,” Bucky said his name almost desperately, his lips forming the one name he’d carried like a brand across his heart. Bucky’s entire body shivered with how raw he felt. His eyes searched out Steve’s, found him looking just as ruined as Bucky felt, his cheeks flush, his eyes practically black, and his mouth breathing Bucky’s name like it was the only word he could remember.

That was the image that was seared across the back of Bucky’s eyelids when he came, Steve’s face looking at him like he was water in the desert, like he was shelter from the storm. Bucky fell into his orgasm, body tightening up with the force of it and he felt himself spilling all over his own chest and Steve’s hand. Before Bucky could even consider what came next, Steve was moving up and over, his arms wrapped firmly around Bucky as he rolled them until Bucky was opening his eyes and looking up at Steve instead of down.

Steve had his forearms under Bucky’s shoulder blades, his head buried in Bucky’s neck and he was still hard and inside Bucky, but motionless for the time being, giving Bucky a second to get his equilibrium back. They were both breathing hard as Bucky wrapped his legs around Steve’s back, digging his heels in and running his fingers through Steve’s hair and down his neck and back before saying, “don’t stop.”

Steve groaned, his hips coming to life and shoving into Bucky who clung to Steve and relished the hard, fast pace. Bucky pressed kisses into Steve’s sweaty temple, licked the whirl of his ear, and bit down on the meat of his shoulder. Steve’s thrusting became erratic and then his entire body seemed to be tensing, arms squeezing, and teeth set into Bucky’s shoulder as he came with a cry.

Bucky went lax on the bed, bringing his hand up to stroke through Steve’s sweat-damp hair and feeling wrung out in the best way. Steve was panting as he pulled out and carefully laid his body down on Bucky’s, as if giving Bucky a chance to protest taking his full weight. But Bucky didn’t care and he could take it, their weights and heights a more even match these days.

They didn’t speak for a long time because they didn’t need to; their bodies had already spoken almost all that was left to be said. Steve did roll over eventually with a deep sigh, moving off the bed and into the bathroom to come back with a warm wet cloth and then climbing back into bed and dropping back onto the covers just as Bucky moved off the bed to find and pick-up his pants.

Bucky was too busy looking in his pockets to notice the small flash of hurt on Steve’s face when he said in a clear but nervous voice from the bed, “stay.”

Bucky glanced up from where he held his pants to look at Steve with a frown and then back down at where Steve was looking at the pants and then back up with a dawning realization, “oh, uh, yeah, of course, I plan to. I’m just looking for my phone so I can set an alarm. I can’t be late for work tomorrow. Not all of us are bohemian, set-our-own-hours artists,” he finished with a lazy, sarcastic grin.

Steve smiled at the joke but then shook his head, “no, I meant, well, yes, stay the night, but just _stay_.”

Bucky’s brow now had a wrinkle of confusion as Steve tried to continue to put into words what he wanted, “Last time I saw you I told you to go. And I stand by that. There were reasons. _Good_ reasons. But, I’m asking you now because I can and because you can, stay with me. Tonight. The next night. For brunch this weekend. For dinner next week. For the next time I visit the ranch. For your holiday office party this year. Stay with me. 

Bucky was so startled he dropped his phone and his pants and his composure, walking back over to the bed and crawling back onto it as his breath hitched and the back of his throat ached and his eyes itched and he knew Steve knew, but Steve stayed quiet as Bucky practically crawled into Steve’s lap until they were face to face.

“The morning I left I told myself not to look back, but I did anyway, and I _kept_ looking back. But I left because I had to. I left because you needed me to. There were good reasons, sure. But, those reasons don’t matter anymore and I’m not leaving you again.”

Bucky wasn’t sure if he had more to say, but it hardly mattered because suddenly Steve was kissing him hard and desperate and deep. Steve’s arms were a vice-like grip around his ribcage that Bucky didn’t want to break. They lost themselves in each other all over again.

They fell back into the covers together… and Bucky _would_ have been late to work the next morning anyway if his abandoned phone hadn’t started ringing from its place on the floor next to his pants at the ungodly hour of 6 o’clock with a call from Natasha to remind him that he couldn’t afford to be late to work.

Bucky scrambled into the bathroom, used some of Steve’s mouthwash, and tried to smooth the wrinkles in his clothes as he dressed; at least he’d changed from yesterday’s work clothes before the gallery show or he’d be doing a walk of shame into the office.

Bucky bounded out of the bathroom, grabbed Steve’s phone, entered his number, thoroughly kissed an awake, but just barely, Steve, promised to text him when he made it to work, and raced out of the apartment high on life. He felt transcendent. Sure, it was Wednesday, and he had to go to work. But he and Steve had tonight, and tomorrow, and this weekend, and beyond.

_They had found a way back to each other somehow._

Bucky heard the sounds of a sunny, early-morning Brooklyn coming to life around him, but suddenly and inexplicably he could smell fresh-cut hay and rain on the horizon.

 

 

 

_6 Months Later_

Steve looked down at his phone as he walked up the stairs. 

_Sam: are you sure it’s not too soon?_

_Steve: yes, I’m sure. Life’s too short. Plus, the way I look at it, we’ve lived together before._

_Sam: and don’t think for a second that I’ve lost steam yelling at you about that._

_Steve: *eye roll emoji* It’s been months Sam. Get over it._

_Sam: I will literally hold this over your head for the rest of your life. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me._

Steve huffed in amusement and annoyance as he reached to get his keys out of his pocket. He and Sam had been circling through the same argument for months now. If he didn’t know Sam was just giving him a hard time, he might actually be upset about it. Sam was, in all honestly, deliriously happy for Steve and trying to cover it up with snark and sarcasm.

Steve walked into his apartment, slipping off his jacket and shoes, tossing his keys in the bowl by the door and calling out, “I’m home.”

“In here,” came the reply from the direction of the bedrooms.

It hadn’t taken any convincing at all to get Bucky to agree to move in with him. It had taken a little more convincing to get Bucky to agree to move back to Brooklyn. Bucky loved Brooklyn, but he’d also explained, as if it made total sense, that it put him that much closer to his parents and then he’d be expected to show up to dinner more often, etc. etc. Steve had rolled his eyes and just kissed Bucky breathless until he blew out a mock-annoyed _fiiiiinnnnne_.

Bucky had parried Steve’s request with one of his own, more space. So, they had stayed in Brooklyn, in Steve’s apartment building, but they’d upgraded to one of the 2 bedroom units. It was nice. It was airy. The ceilings were tall. It had been remodeled and modernized. Steve had squinted at the price and Bucky had just kissed him breathless till he gave a sigh and they both signed on the dotted line.

Sam wasn’t the only friend, or family member, who had raised an eyebrow at them moving in together, but when you’ve been waiting 4 years, it just seems like you’ve waited long enough. Steve had learned a long time ago that time was not always your friend. He meandered around boxes as he made his way through the apartment towards the sound of Bucky’s voice.

They had moved this week, taking time off to unpack into the weekend. Steve had just returned from a meeting with a gallery owner he couldn’t cancel and Bucky had promised to make some headway while he was gone.

Steve found him in the hallway, hanging pictures up and down the walls. There was one of Steve and his mother from his high school graduation. There was one of Bucky and his parents taken at some formal event, if the attire was anything to go by. There was a group photo of Bucky and his college friends. There were some of Steve’s smaller pieces of art. There was a photo of Steve and Bucky at NYC Pride together from a few months ago. Steve loved that picture.

Finally, Steve got to the end; the last picture that Bucky had just hung up it seemed and was glancing at to make sure it was straight. He turned to smile at Steve. Steve smiled back and was about to lean in for a kiss when the photo registered with him. It was the photo of he and Peggy and Lady, the one he used to keep on his desk. It had been enlarged and re-framed.

Steve looked over to Bucky, “did you re-frame it?”

Bucky smiled and nodded, looking only slightly hesitant, “I was going with a sort of theme on the framing for the hallway and so I’ve been working the last few weeks to have a lot of our photos professionally printed and framed. I found this one with the others in a box in your closet. I hope you don’t… 

Steve reached out and gripped Bucky behind his neck, reeling him in for a kiss. Bucky melted against him, obviously bolstered by Steve’s reaction, kissing him back eagerly.

Bucky pulled back, “it’s okay?”

Steve smiled, a lump in his throat he had to swallow through, “of course it’s okay. Is it okay with you?”

Bucky managed to somehow look offended and adoring at the same time, “of course it’s okay with me.”

Steve squeezed his hand where it still rested on the nape of Bucky’s neck and pressed a quick kiss on his lips again, “I just don’t want you to ever think that I’m stuck in the past. That I’m not here with you 100%.”

Bucky looked at the picture with a smile before turning fully into Steve and putting his arms around Steve’s neck and looking at him with a serious gaze, “of course you’re here with me. And you know what, I like to think sometimes that Peggy is too - her memory, her love for you, your love for her. Peggy is a part of you. She always will be. And I love every part of you. She’s not behind us Steve, she’s beside us.”

Steve couldn’t really make his voice work well but he did manage to get out a strangled, “I love you too.”

Someday… someday soon Steve would share that letter from Peggy with Bucky and Bucky would realize why what he’d said had so affected Steve. For now he just sunk into the feeling of Bucky hugging him tight and peppering kisses all along the side of Steve’s face and hair and neck until Steve could compose himself enough to pull back.

Bucky swiped his thumbs under Steve’s eyes and smiled at him before saying, “how about lunch and then we can tackle unpacking the living room?”

“Sounds good, what are you making us for lunch?” Steve said with a grin even as he made his way towards the kitchen.

Bucky scrunched his nose up, “that’s not funny, Steve, you know I can’t cook for shit… why do you think I agreed to move in with you?”

Steve laughed, “oh, is that why you agreed to move in with me?”

Bucky followed him into the kitchen sassing back even as he started helping collect the ingredients for Steve to make sandwiches, “I honestly can’t think of another reason.”

Steve rounded on him suddenly, pinning Bucky between his body and the kitchen island before sweeping his fingers into Bucky’s hair and laying a long hot kiss on his lips. Steve flicked his tongue into Bucky’s mouth as he snuck his fingertips up under the t-shirt the brunette was wearing to skim them across his abs and hipbone before pulling back completely.

“Really,” Steve said with humor in his voice, “not a single other reason?”

Bucky licked his lips and smiled back, “okay, maybe there’s two reasons.”

Steve laughed and set about making lunch while Bucky started to unpack another box.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this story. We had the best time writing and drawing it. Comments and Kudos are always appreciated. If you loved the fic and the art be sure to follow [SilverSlashes](https://silverslashes.tumblr.com/) and [TrishArgh](https://frau-argh.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.


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